InsaneJournal

Happy Traditions to our lovely pinch-hitters!
Mod note: I was forced to post this in multiple parts; I hope that I chose places to cut into chapters that the author doesn't think is TOO horrible. :)

Title: Samhain Magic
Author: bean120001
Gift For: pinch hitters (and all of our lovely participants)!
Pairing(s): Severus/Hermione and Draco/Harry
Summary: Harry, Draco, Hermione and Severus are trying to figure out what Dumbledore had planned for them, in case Voldemort ever attacked the school. Unfortunately he's dead and didn't leave any clues behind. It's decided that they will have to go to the source and ask the man himself. Includes themes from Samhain traditions and ancient magic.
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content and nudity
Warnings: rimming (tiny bit), oral, m/m, het, voyeurism, anal
Author's notes: This is an exchange fic for midnightdesire, who expressed an interest in Samhain and old magic, so this is my first attempt at writing about those topics. This is AU, since I haven't yet finished the series (bad fan, I know) and I want to keep Snape around a bit longer. :)
Word Count: 25,000ish
Beta: Thanks to greenwizard for all of his hard work! I've never used his services before this fic, so don't think you can figure out who I am from his name! :D He was awesome and edited the heck out of this baby. He was also the inspiration for the ritual aspects of the fic, so thank you Mr. D. If there are still boo-boos, it's because I was editing up to the last minute and making changes.

Read it here or at Livejournal, and be sure to leave feedback for all of our lovely participants!

Samhain Magic

Preparations

Harry stared morosely at the portrait of the late headmaster, Dumbledore. “Is there nothing you can tell me that will help?” he asked in frustration. “Surely the real Dumbledore said something, anything to you about his plans?”

Portrait Dumbledore shook his head, casting his flat gaze out over the young man and the two professors at his back. “I'm afraid that I was created too long before my originator's death to know for sure what he was thinking. There were only a few murmurs here and there, but too many eyes for him to say anything definite. I am sorry.” He dug a lemon drop from his pocket and popped it into his mouth, sucking thoughtfully for a moment. “Perhaps you could look into the pensieve on the desk there?” he suggested pointing to the large basin that was now perched on one corner of the huge headmaster desk.

Headmistress McGonagall spoke up from behind Harry, “We have, repeatedly and there isn't anything concrete enough to go on there either,” she muttered sourly. “Really Albus, couldn't you have planned for this kind of situation a little better in life? We don't know what to do.”

“Minerva my dear, I am sorry,” the portrait replied sadly. “We didn't know how quickly my demise would play out. There wasn't time that night.”

“Perhaps if you hadn't been so secretive in life we wouldn't be quite so at a loss now,” Professor Snape growled in annoyance. “The Dark Lord has set his sights on Hogwarts. Surely you had some sort of contingency plan for such an occurrence,” he stated, clamping his hands down on his hips. It was a gesture all in the room easily recognized as Severus' way of preventing himself from strangling the nearest person to vent his frustration.

“Oh, no doubt my boy, but as I am but a thin capture of a brief moment in time, I can't give you the information you need. I'm afraid that you will simply have to come up with something on your own this time Severus,” the portrait replied, shaking its head.

McGonagall groaned softly to herself and turned to walk back to the sprawling desk, sinking into the chair. She rubbed her temples and sighed. “He's right I suppose. Without knowing what Albus had planned, or even what is already in place, we're rather on our own in this. You said we have several weeks left to figure something out then?”

Snape nodded shortly, glaring briefly at the portrait before turning back towards the Headmistress. “The plan is to move in on the school in the first week or two of November. It will be cold enough by then that students will be inside more often than not, and easy to trap. It will also be early enough that he doesn't run the risk of them leaving for the holidays.”

“But why even attack the students?” Harry asked in frustration. “They can't harm him or his Death Eaters, not really.”

“I should hope that you at least would be able to,” Snape growled, “since you are the one that is supposed to kill him.”

Harry flinched and looked away. “No need to remind me Snape. I'm well aware of what I have to do. Besides, I am no longer a student here, am I?” He'd taken over as the Dark Arts instructor at the beginning of the year, being the only one willing to take on what others considered a cursed position. He was already cursed in a way, so why not? He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “So why the students?”

“Because they do pose some threat, even as young witches and wizards. They may not be adults yet, but their magic is still strong enough to be a hindrance. And not least of all, there are hundreds of them in one location,” Snape explained with surprising patience, his voice rolling richly through the large office.

“Still,” Harry sighed, sitting in a chair at the front of McGonagall's desk. “I wish...,” he started, but was interrupted by Hermione hurrying into the office.

“I'm very sorry Headmistress, Professor, Harry,” she panted, closing the door. “I just finished with the Heads' meeting. What have I missed?” she asked, dropping her bag on the floor at Harry's feet. Hermione had become one of the top researchers in the Order ever since her induction over the summer. Even Snape, albeit grudgingly, accepted that fact. She had a keen understanding of everything she'd ever read or heard, and could easily come to startlingly useful conclusions. She'd also taken over Transfiguration when McGonagall decided to accept the position of Headmistress. She was brilliant at that too.

Snape sneered and shook his head, “Not a damn thing. The Dark Lord plans to attack Hogwarts in under a month and we still don't have a plan.”

Hermione frowned, sinking against the arm of Harry's chair. “But I thought you were going to speak with Dumbledore's portrait,” she said confused. “Surely you didn't wait for me to arrive?”

“No,” Harry sighed. “He doesn't know what Dumbledore planned before his death,” he said waving a dismissive hand at the painted man, who shrugged apologetically. “I wish we could speak with the real Dumbledore,” he groaned, flopping back in his chair and closing his eyes. “He always had a plan for everything.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately he's quite out of our reach,” McGonagall sighed sadly.

Harry opened his eyes long enough to shoot Snape a glare, who ignored him completely. Snape had been cleared well over a year ago, having found at least one helpful pensieve memory detailing Dumbledore's plans for his own death. It didn't make accepting what Snape had done much easier, but it made it a little easier to deal with the man at least. Harry couldn't say that he trusted Snape implicitly, but he did trust him enough to accept that he was still on their side.

“I wish I had more faith in Divination,” Harry muttered softly. “We could get Trelawney to channel his spirit.” The room went oddly still at his words, prompting him to open his eyes. He glanced briefly between the three in surprise. McGonagall was wearing a thoughtful look, while Snape and Hermione were exchanging knowing gazes. “I wasn't serious.”

“I really don't put much stock in Divination either, but it is possible to reach out to those who have passed,” Hermione said slowly, cocking her head, “Isn't it Professor?” she asked Snape. “I know I read about it somewhere.”

“You read a book that had something to do with Divination?” Harry asked with a snort.

Hermione smacked his leg playfully. “Just because I think something is a bunch of rubbish doesn't mean that I'll refuse to read about it. Learning is learning and if I'm going to scoff at something I had better know what I'm talking about,” she replied. “I've read all of the leading text on the subject.”

“No doubt,” Snape purred sarcastically, earning him an eye-roll from the young woman perched on Potter's chair. “In that case I'd imagine that you've read Professor Trelawney's book, “The Other Side,” he said turning and moving to the shelves that lined the walls. After a moment of scanning the titles he pulled it out and held it up, eyebrow raised arrogantly.

“Yes,” Hermione said excitedly, standing up and crossing to him, “That's the one.” She reached happily for it, only to scowl as he held it out of her reach, a small smirk on his lips.

“Do contain your excitement Miss Granger,” he sneered.

“But I know exactly where it is,” she complained. “If you'll just let me...Professor!” she grabbed for the book again, brushing up against him as she reached. She was so intent on getting the book, she didn't absorb how very inappropriate her nearness to the older man was.

He backed away, eyes narrowed. “I know where it is as well, and better yet, I know exactly what it says.” He smiled inwardly as the young woman huffed and crossed her arms in frustration. Hermione Granger had quite a lot of issues when it came to sharing the stage. She wanted to be the one that explained everything, every time...though so did he, and he was bigger.

“The book details a ritual in which someone may channel a specific spirit in order to ask questions of the deceased person,” he explained, flipping through the book. Hermione was tapping her foot and waving for him to continue, clearly chomping at the bit. “Normally I wouldn't take the old bat too seriously, but as this book was written while she was deep in a true trance, we can assume that it will be reliable.”

“Let's try it then,” Harry said hastily, standing up. “What do we need. I'll go get it.”

Snape raised a brow at him. “Don't you even want to know what it entails first? It could be dark magic for all you know.”

“It very nearly is,” Hermione chimed in, her face thoughtful as she grabbed at the chance share her own knowledge. “It's nothing illegal, but it does skirt the edges a bit.” She cocked her head at Snape as if asking for his approval. He nodded slightly, and grunted his agreement. They might compete for know-it-all of the year, but she still looked up to him, and she admired his opinion of her ideas.

“It doesn't matter,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I'm tired of living in constant fear of what will happen. If Voldemort is coming here, then I'll be ready for him. I'll end this once and for all.”

Snape studied him for a moment, his face neutral and unmoving. Finally he sighed and stepped forward to place the book on the desk. “We will need four people to complete this satisfactorily. One person will accept the spirit, one will ask the questions, and two will conduct the ritual.”

“Will just anyone do?” the Headmistress asked, leaning forward to peer at the diagram displayed in the book.

“For the vessel and interrogator, yes,” Snape answered pointing to the people in the center of the diagram. “They don't actually perform any magic. They are simply along for the ride.” He pointed to the two people on opposite ends of the diagram's circle. “These two however, need to be both strong and intelligent. There is some risk of demons or other spirits slipping through the veil and interrupting the process. Quick wits and a quicker wand are vital to the safety of the center participants.”

“So how does it work?” Harry asked, leaning in.

“It must happen on Samhain for one,” Hermione said, tracing her fingers thoughtfully over the diagram. “It is the night when the veil between the living and nonliving worlds is the thinnest. Most people now see it as All Hallows Eve or, more commonly, Halloween. Some still celebrate it as it should be though.”

“Indeed,” Snape agreed. “It will begin with the drawing of the diagram here,” he said pointing to the book. “That will help shield us from outside interference. Second, we will build two bonfires. Either the remains of the one we wish to speak with, or at least something he owned is then tossed into it. Muggles adapted it so that animal remains were used, but for our purpose we need something a little more specific. It's not absolutely necessary, but it would be more effective.”

“Would a few locks of hair do?” the Headmistress asked softly.

“That will do,” Snape said with a nod, not asking why she might have some of Dumbledore's hair to begin with. “The four will then strip off all material items and walk between the fires to purify themselves for the ritual to come. The vessel and the interrogator will stand at the center, here,” he said, indicating the smaller circle inside the larger one. “The two conducting the magical part of the ritual stand here, and here,” he explained. “They will recite the words written on the following page of this book, and if powerful enough, Dumbledore will visit us and take over the vessel's body for a short time.”

“Does harm come to the vessel?” Harry asked, with a hint of concern in his voice.

“I doubt it. Perhaps there would a little amnesia of the possession, but I can't be certain,” Snape said with a light shrug.

“I will question the vessel,” Harry said with a nod, “And I know who will volunteer for that roll. He has wanted to make peace with the Headmaster for some time now, and this will be a good way to do that.”

“Mr. Malfoy, I presume?” Headmistress McGonagall asked. Harry nodded and sighed. It was no secret that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were lovers. It had come out quite scandalously over a year ago when a spurned Pansy Parkinson had announced it rather loudly in the middle of Diagon Alley. Draco hadn't bothered to dispute it, and the papers had gone wild with excitement. Ever since then the pair were in the paper every time they stepped outside their shared flat in Wizarding London.

“And the people conducting the ritual?” Snape asked. “Do you have a idea for whom you might wish them to be?”

Harry cocked his head and gave him a funny look. “I assumed you would be doing it since you know the most about it,” he said in surprise. “Besides, you're strong enough, aren't you?”

Snape scowled, “Indeed.” He sighed, “Very well, I will fill the roll of death and darkness well enough.”

“I'm sure,” Harry said, brow going up, “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Samhain is the end of summer and harvest,” Hermione explained with a sigh. “It's a celebration, not only of finishing the harvest, but also as the beginning of a new time and the end of another. Some call it the Celtic New Year, and some just refer to it as the end of summer. It is the dividing point between the lighter and darker points of the year, or at least one of them. Thus, in the ritual, we will need someone to represent light and living and another to represent dark and death, or at least the passing from one phase to another.”

“So Hermione will represent the lighter side then?” Harry asked.

Snape blinked and looked sharply at him. “What gave you that idea?”

“Well,” Harry shrugged, “She's strong too, and she just seems more like the summer to your winter...if that makes any sense. Plus light and life are kind of pure, right? And it's not like she's ever done anything to hurt that side of her. I mean she's still a virgin and....”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, cutting him off and blushing furiously.

“What?” he asked in surprise. “It's true. When we went for a walk last week, those unicorns followed you for a good hour. It was absolutely brilliant to get to see them so up close!” Unicorns didn't care for Harry much, possibly due to the Dark Lord's influence; or maybe it was just because of his relationship with Draco, which had been anything but tame.

“I'm sure Miss Granger doesn't wish for you to share with others whether or not the unicorns still love her,” Snape purred, smirking and glancing at the bowed curly haired head of the young woman in question. Even through the wild curtain of locks he could see the flush of her pink cheeks. So Miss Granger was still a virgin? He hadn't expected that at all, not after she dated Mr. Weasley for nearly a year before he ended up with Miss Lovegood. As intriguing as that all was, Potter was also correct. As a virgin, a powerful one at that, Miss Granger would be an appropriate counter to him.

“Sorry Mione,” Harry said, eyes widening a bit as he realized what he'd really said. “That was stupid of me.”

“Yes, well,” she muttered, gathering her wits together as best she could. “That's a rather private matter Harry.”

“As private a matter as it may be, he is correct in his assumption,” Snape commented with a small smile on his lips. “You would be an adequate choice for my counterpart in this.”

She blinked at him, surprised at the veiled compliment. “Thank you,” she said faintly.

He nodded shortly and sighed. “If that is all, I suggest we all read up on the ritual and meet back here in two weeks to prepare the circle and decide with what we will ask Dumbledore.”

“Yes of course,” McGonagall said nodding. “That would be fine, though I suggest the Room of Requirement if this is to be done indoors. The Great Hall would allow for too many spectators sneaking in, and I'd rather keep this quiet.”

“I would suggest a secure place on the grounds. The more traditional and natural the ritual the better. An open field would be best, or perhaps a large clearing in the forest,” Snape said, cocking his head a bit in thought. “Since we're doing this to protect the students, it would be best not to endanger them further,” he said pointedly.

“I will consider a suitable location and let you know then,” the older woman replied with a nod. “Now, why don't we all head to supper and you may begin your preparations afterward?” she suggested, rising smoothly.

“Agreed,” Severus murmured, “Though...might I have a word with you for a moment Miss Granger?”

Hermione blinked, and then nodded. “Of course Professor. We'll meet you at the table in a few minutes,” she said smiling at Harry and the Headmistress. Harry sent Snape a suspicious look but, followed the Headmistress down the stairs anyway, leaving Hermione to turn and look at the dark haired professor expectantly.

“Miss Granger, let me begin by saying that I assure you that my intentions are purely academic in nature,” he said turning and pacing away slightly and then spinning and coming back to stand before her, as if changing his mind on where he'd decided to go. She felt a twinge of surprise when she noted a small blush touching his cheeks, and nodded in bewilderment. “Normally I wouldn't presume to ask such a thing of a young woman, but...was Potter correct?”

“About what?” she asked eyebrows scrunching slightly in her confusion. “Harry said quite a lot if you remember.”

“The part about unicorns still loving you,” he said raising one elegant eyebrow at her.

“Are you asking me if I'm really still a virgin Sir?” Hermione asked, not sure if she was embarrassed or amused by the question, and fairly sure both were showing on her face. Hiding emotion wasn't something she did well.

“Yes...and considering we are both colleagues...perhaps 'Sir' is inappropriate?” he muttered. She had been calling him Sir or Professor for over a decade now, but hearing Sir right after the word 'virgin' sent a rush of...something through his body that he wasn't quite willing to explore at the moment.

“Professor then,” she said with a small smile. “And despite it really being none of your business, yes I'm still a virgin. Why do you ask?”

He cast his dark gaze briefly over her before turning his head to look at the fire. The 'something' thrilled through him again and coiled tightly at his groin. He closed his eyes in annoyance at the very familiar sensation of an erection beginning to tighten his pants. He knew she likely wouldn't notice his condition, blessing his tendency to wear heavy layers, but he noticed. It was terribly uncomfortable to deal with the issue while in front of others, but most especially in front of such a pretty young woman whom was only a few years out of school. Shoving away all thoughts that tried to immediately flood his mind at the thought of her in her school uniform, he turned his concentration to their conversation and pressed forward. “Virgin witches are valuable in any ritual, as you are no doubt aware,” he started. “Are you seeing anyone as of the present? Maybe someone that might interrupt that purity?”

“Not at the moment, no,” she said, fighting to tame the giggle and grin that were trying to claw their way to the surface. Despite the embarrassing inquiry, it was rather fun to see Snape look so uncomfortable while trying to be so proper at the same time. She could only see the side of his face from this angle, but he actually looked like he was sweating a little. Was he nervous?

“Ah, good,” he said with an outwardly calm nod. In his head however, he was thrilled at the prospect of a single Hermione, for reasons he was sure had everything to do with her virgin state. No man had touched her and none would, at least not in the near future anyway. He'd never been with a virgin, which in itself held a certain appeal, but to find one with a stunning brain to match.... When she blinked at his long, glazed pause, he clamored to explain, “It would be helpful to our cause for you to remain...intact, until after the ritual.” Never had he felt so inarticulate and off balance as an adult. He felt like a teenage boy trying to talk to his crush, all the while shifting awkwardly in hopes she wouldn't notice the line of his erection against his robes. When in the hell had he developed an attraction to Hermione Granger?

“No problem there,” she muttered, looking disappointed. “A year from now you could very likely ask the same of me and it would still be no problem.”

“Pardon?” he asked turning and both eyebrows going up.

She sighed and shrugged. “Boys...men don't really care for me that much. I talk too much, and I'm smarter than most of them. I'm not much to look at either; so really, they aren't exactly lined up at the door.”

“Miss Granger,” he started, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head, “I don't see the problem with that.” When she frowned and cocked her head in confusion he sighed. “Why on earth would you want to be with a man that isn't at least a little in awe of your formidable mind, though I must admit, you do talk quite a lot. And I happen to think that your features are quite charming; pretty even. You are elegant, intelligent, and brave. Once you figure that out and how to use it to your advantage, men will fight duels to possess you.”

“That is quite unlikely,” she said softly, her eyes downcast, “but thank you for saying so Sir...Professor.”

“I am only saying it because I believe it true. I'm not saying it to boost your ego,” he grunted. She really was a pretty young woman. She had developed from an awkward bushy-haired teen into a curvy woman with long, barely tamed curls. Her skin was clear and smooth and just asked to be touched to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He moved to the window and looked out over the grounds for a moment, trying to gather his scattered thoughts and will his body to cooperate. Finally he turned and stared at her thoughtfully. When she cocked a brow at him he grimaced and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I have one more thing to ask of you,” he said, hating the hesitancy in his voice.

“Yes?” she asked, looking up at him, her face still faintly flushed from his proclamation of her charms.

“When you do...decide to fall out of favor with the unicorns,” he said softly, “might I prevail upon you to collect the maiden's blood? It's really quite valuable and rare, and even more rare to find such a powerful source witch.” He pressed away images of her spread out on a bed before they had a chance to take root, but not quickly enough to avoid the pulse of interest in his groin.

“Yes, yes of course I shall try to...yes,” she stuttered, hardly believing that the dour man was asking such a thing; though to his credit, he looked supremely uncomfortable about it. He actually was sweating! She felt strangely proud that she had actually affected him in any way other than annoying him.

“Thank you Miss Granger,” he said with a quick nod, relieved that she didn't scream at him for such a personal request. Of course he was fairly certain that, coming from him, she was just too startled to react as she normally might. Weasley or Potter probably would have been smacked and had a thorough scolding by this point. “That is all I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Hermione,” she blurted out.

“Pardon?” he asked.

“If you are going to ask me questions like that...please call me Hermione,” she said blushing and staring at the floor. “I mean...we are colleagues now, and it would be acceptable...I think.”

He studied her for a moment and then nodded. “Very well Hermione. You may call me what you wish as well. Severus would be acceptable. Professor and Sir are really unnecessary I think.”

“Yes, Severus then. Thank you,” she said, swallowing nervously. “If that is all...Severus?” She liked the way his name felt in her mouth far more than she'd ever be willing to admit to another person. It tickled her lips just a little and made her want to giggle. She was fairly certain that would be an inappropriate reaction at a time like this, especially after he'd just commented on her sharp mind and elegance.

“Yes, that is all. Shall we go down to supper?” he asked, gesturing towards the door and the steep stairs beyond. She nodded, and without another word gathered up her bag and headed out ahead of him. She disappeared down the stairs rather quickly.

Groaning softly to himself, he pressed his palm against his half hard erection, willing it to fade so he could go down to supper himself, but only making it worse in the process. He desperately hoped she hadn't noticed the wholly disloyal appendage pointing directly at her. Lack of control was something he deplored, but there were a few things even he didn't have a say over; spontaneous arousal being one of them. He sighed inwardly after a few moments and made his own way down the stairs at a slower pace. He didn't need to catch her, and it would give him the time he needed to get his body back under control.

Back in the office Dumbledore's portrait smiled serenely and settled back in his chair. He might not know what his originator planned for the fall of the Dark Lord, but he did know how the man had felt about Severus and Hermione, and he knew that Dumbledore would have approved of the strange exchange that had just occurred.

***

“Severus,” McGonagall beamed as Snape sat down on her right, “how was your chat with Miss Granger? She looks rather flustered,” she said, her sharp gaze moving over the younger woman who was now sitting at Harry's side, then back to the dour man.

“Fine,” he murmured, spooning potatoes onto his plate. It was fine if you didn't have a small issue with being aroused by a woman who you'd taught only a few years prior anyway. “I simply wanted to impress upon her the importance of her untouched state,” he said with a shrug. “And I asked of her the small favor of saving the evidence of its destruction for my use in the future.”

Minerva, mid-sip, choked rather inelegantly, drawing his black gaze to her startled face. “You did what?” she hissed, once she'd recovered her wits and the students and faculty alike returned their attention back to their own supper and conversations. “Severus, why on earth would you ask such a thing? I had no idea...I mean you're still a young man and all, but I didn't think you were marriage minded in the least.”

“Marriage?” he snorted, gathering another round of curious gazes. He glared back at the puzzled onlookers until they broke and looked away, then he turned his attention back to the Headmistress. “Where in the hell did you get the idea that I'd ever want to marry...especially that chit?” Marriage to the young woman hadn't entered his mind once during that entire and slightly uncomfortable conversation; sex yes, marriage no.

“Really Severus,” she scolded, “there is nothing at all wrong with the girl.”

“Yes, yes, I'm well aware,” he said impatiently. “Explain why you think I have any intention of marrying the girl.”

She sighed and took a more careful sip of her wine, then looked at him seriously. “Even when I was a young woman a wizard asking to possess the blood of a woman's maidenhead was not only asking if he might take it personally, but also if she'd be his bride. It is a very old and seldom used custom, but still understood in some circles. It's very likely Miss Granger is unaware of the tradition, but if she were to know of it, she might conclude that you proposed to her this evening.”

His eyes widened in shock and a little horror as the revelation of what he'd nearly done swept over him. “Surely she doesn't think...that's quite impossible,” he insisted.

“It is quite possible. This tradition is still used in the very oldest and most traditional families,” Minerva informed him. “I will of course explain the tradition to Miss Granger just in case, and I'll inform her that marriage was not your intention...unless....”

“Absolutely not!” he hissed at her. “To borrow a Muggle term, that would go over like a lead balloon with the Dark Lord.”

“Yes, of course,” the older woman said quickly, “But perhaps after he is gone...”

“I don't want to have this conversation again Minerva,” he growled. Minerva tended to become rather mother hen-ish when she was around Severus, and on occasion she brought up the sad lack of a truly romantic relationship in his life. He'd had plenty of sexual relationships, but the older woman was beginning to despair of him ever settling down with anyone. “I'm not the kind of man women fall in love with and have dreams of white picket fences about.”

“No, I rather think their dreams would be all together more entertaining than what kind of fencing a woman might want in her yard,” Minerva teased with a smirk worthy of any Sytherin. When he blinked at her in surprise she patted his hand and poured wine into his goblet. “You're a very attractive young man Severus. Don't discount your worth based on mistakes and a few people's opinions about your physical appearance.”

He glared balefully at her. “A few people? Surely you're jesting. I am hardly a handsome man,” he snorted.

“Not handsome, no,” she agreed, “but you are fascinating and very mysterious. Women are attracted to that just as much, and a pretty face fades with time. A woman might find herself attracted to you for all your mysteriousness, and rather pleasing body type, but the one that keeps you will love you for your mind. That is your most valuable asset Severus, and the one who matters will know that.” It was like she was echoing exactly what he'd told Miss Granger...Hermione just moments ago. It was surprisingly a lot easier to say it about someone else than to hear it about yourself.

“Perhaps you are correct,” he conceded; mostly so she'd cease saying such disconcerting things to him. He liked his quiet life well enough, and talk of a wife was just a tad off-putting at this point. Though after the war was over, perhaps looking for a suitable wife wouldn't be out of the question.

“Of course I am,” she said with a smug grin. “Now pass the bread, please.”

***

Hermione sank into the soft mass of her sofa, sinking deep into its welcoming embrace. She was still completely baffled by the behavior of both Severus and Minerva this evening. Severus had barely said a civil word to her the entire time she'd been a student at the school, and then out of the blue he just up and asked her some very personal questions. As if that hadn't unsettled her enough, Minerva's quiet explanation of wizarding marriage traditions post-supper, hadn't helped.

It had never crossed her mind, nor apparently Severus', that he would be a participant in the removal of her virginity; or that he might be her husband at the time. What a bizarre method of proposal. If it still worked like that, most of her year would have been married by sixteen.

Though she had to admit that it certainly had a romantic quality to it. What girl didn't dream, however briefly, that she would lose her virginity on her wedding night? It wasn't realistic in this day and age despite various religious pressures, but it was romantic. And never in her wildest dreams had she ever equated the image of Severus Snape with love and sex. But now that the subject had been brought up, she found herself entertaining the thought.

Severus Snape. Surely he'd had sex in his life...he was at least forty after all. She let her head fall back against the sofa thoughtfully. She couldn't remember him ever mentioning any woman in his life, and no one that she knew had seen him with anyone in a nonprofessional light. Though she doubted he would allow anyone to see him as anything but a professional. He was a man that clearly didn't mix business and pleasure. Did he date? Surely he must have, at least a little. He was still young, even by non-wizarding standards, and probably had at least some drive for sexual gratification. Of course the man was also rather uptight and snappy. Who would sleep with someone like that?

She bit at her lip thoughtfully. Some of the girls from her school days had mentioned seeing him as something more than just a teacher, so perhaps it was possible.... They would gush over his deep, rich voice. Thinking about it now, he did have a rather nice voice. It was rather like black velvet caressing your skin; rich and soft, but just a little rough if rubbed the wrong way. Of course he could also wield it like a razor sharp blade when he was impatient; slicing the air with biting words and sneering contempt. Yet...she could see how that could be sort of a turn on too, if used properly.

The other girls had also whispered about his imposing style of dress. He was always covered chin to toe in black, showing only his face and hands. They often speculated over what he might be hiding under all of that black and heavy cloth. She could now confidently tell them more or less what they'd girlishly mused over, and assure them it was probably all they'd hoped for. After years of serving as a spy among Voldemort's ranks he was still fit and healthy, that was probably what kept him alive. The Dark Lord was well known for punishing his servants rather indiscriminately, especially when they brought bad news. Severus had been on the receiving end of one such outburst some months back.

Hermione had been in the infirmary chatting with Madam Pomfrey one night when he'd practically fallen from the floo a few feet from them. She remembered just how much blood had caked his normally crisp, immaculate black robes. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. He'd literally reeked of blood and death, so much so she'd nearly gagged with it. The robust mediwitch at her side had jumped up and demanded her help while racing to his crumpled form.

“What have you done to yourself this time you silly fool?” Poppy had asked softly, concern lacing her words as she bent down to heave him onto his back. As Hermione knelt on his other side, the older woman began to mutter a series of diagnostic spells over his limp form.

“What can I do?” Hermione asked, unconsciously reaching her hand out to his ghastly pale cheek, hardly believing that he could still be alive. The only indication that he was still with them was the occasional harsh breath that his lungs would drag in. “Professor,” she whispered, finally giving in and touching his cheek lightly. He let out a barely audible groan, his head turning slightly and pressing into her gentle touch, unconsciously seeking the healing touch of another human.

“Help me get this robe off and then we'll get him into a bed,” Poppy said briskly. When Hermione pulled out her wand, Poppy shook her head and said, “I've used too much magic already. I don't know how it will react with whatever was done to him.”

“You don't know?” Hermione asked in surprise, slipping her wand into her pocket and reaching for the high buttons of his robes.

“Not exactly, but I have a few ideas...none of them pleasant I assure you,” the older woman said, quickly unlacing his boots and pulling them off gently. His socks followed and to Hermione's shock, the mediwitch reached for his trousers next.

“I thought you said just his robes,” she said with a hard swallow. She didn't think Professor Snape would appreciate that anyone had seen him so vulnerable, let alone naked, especially if she were one of those people.

“I did,” Poppy said, mechanically tugging free each button of his trousers, even as Hermione's trembling fingers pulled away his thick outer robe. When she saw that deep red of his shirt, once white from the occasional strip of pink here and there, she understood. They had to get to the wounds causing the gory mess. She didn't bother asking and simply reached for his shirt buttons as Poppy tugged his trousers down.

“Poppy?” he rasped softly, startling both women slightly.

“Severus?” she responded in surprise, moving forward on her knees as he opened his eyes. “What did they use?”

He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. “I don't know. They got me from behind after I left the meeting.”

“It wasn't Voldemort then?” Poppy asked in surprise.

“No,” he whispered, wincing painfully as Hermione accidentally pulled the blood soaked cloth from a partially dried wound.

“It couldn't have been a slashing curse,” Hermione said, studying the wound. “Your clothing isn't torn.”

He finally focused his eyes on her, looking rather startled that she'd been there the whole time. “Granger, what are you doing here?” he grunted softly, the normally cutting voice sounding weak and tired.

“Helping you,” she said gently, carefully lifting each arm and letting the cloth fall to the floor under him.

Her actions drew his attention to his lack of clothing, aside from a pair of blood stained boxers, their original color impossible to tell. “Poppy!” he snapped weakly, a flush staining his cheeks as he tried to rise. He shuddered painfully and fell back with a groan. “Why am I naked?” he finally gasped.

Poppy actually grinned at him. “That's hardly naked you old prude,” she said summoning water and a cloths. “I needed to see where you were injured and I need to get some of this blood off. Just wait until I actually have to take those boxers off. You can complain then if you like.”

“She is not staying here,” he groaned through clenched teeth as the mediwitch began to gently run a cloth over him.

“I won't tell anyone about this,” Hermione promised, reaching for another clean cloth. “Just be still for a bit. We'll take care of you.”

“I don't need to be taken care of,” he muttered petulantly.

“Stop being such a baby,” Hermione chided. “We're all adults here and we will act as such. I'm not going to go and spread rumors about you Professor. Just lie still and let us heal you.”

He huffed out a small sigh and relaxed, a look of resentment on his face. “Very well, but keep your eyes where they belong Miss Granger.”

“Yes of course,” she said quietly, biting her lip to keep from smiling. Could the man never relax his guard? Besides, why would she really want to check him out all covered in blood like he was?

The two women worked quickly, but as gently as they could, their patient grumbling softly or wincing whenever they hit a particularly sensitive wound. Once most of the blood was washed away and the wounds carefully cleaned, it became apparent that they were all shallow. They were deep enough to bleed a lot and hurt, but once tended not a problem to fix. If he'd been left unattended he could have been in danger, but whoever had attacked him must have known he'd return to the castle. They must have realized that killing him would have been a problem if the Dark Lord found out who'd done it. He was an important 'spy' for the Dark Lord after all.

When Poppy had finally coaxed him out of his boxers, Severus grumbling weakly the whole while, Hermione had been too tempted to not take the opportunity for what it was. Pretending to reach for a clean cloth she let her eyes flick over his newly exposed flesh. She blushed, and then quickly averted her eyes, unconsciously catching his steady gaze. She couldn't tell what he was thinking in that moment; Severus Snape was just too hard to read. She was sure that he wasn't pleased that she'd seen him so devoid of his normal protective layer of clothing and pride.

It wasn't that she'd never seen a naked man before. She'd stayed at the Weasley's a few times, and with so many brothers around you were bound to catch a flash here and there. The twins were particularly notorious for bolting...or sometimes flat out strolling, naked from the bathroom to their shared bedroom. Plus she'd walked in on Draco and Harry in the library at Harry's house one night. Seeing Harry...very naked and laying face down on the wide couch with an equally naked Draco moving fluidly against him...that had been quite a shock. It hadn't been one of those unpleasant shocks like catching your parents at it of course. It had been more of a surprised shock; one that made you tilt your head to get a better look at. But there was something a little more startling about realizing that Severus Snape really was just a man.

Sighing, she sat up on the sofa and rubbed her temples. Even with all of that blood on him, it had been hard to deny he was just a man, and not the boogie monster from her childhood. He was a well built man at that. His body was lean and finely muscled, and apparently easily hidden under layers of cloth. She smiled to herself, remembering the trail of fine hairs that had spread down his toned belly. She found it amusing that Severus Snape could have something so mundane as body hair. She had never thought that there was a single mundane thing about him.

The man was amazing. He was brave, something she could easily respect. The fact that she now found him a least a little bit attractive was just an added bonus. Since that night in the infirmary she'd thought about the man several times in ways that did not fall into the 'appropriate' category. At first she'd been shocked with herself for having even the smallest of crushes on the cranky man, but then she decided that the past didn't matter. He'd been an ass to her while she'd been in school, and he wasn't much better now, but there was just something about him. He was fiercely intelligent and had the sharpest wit of anyone she knew. It was refreshing to say something to him and not have to explain it in great depth so he'd understand.

She hadn't been paying attention to him at dinner, but she wished she could have seen the look on his face when Minerva informed him that he'd very nearly proposed to the Gryffindor know it all that had been the bane of his existence for the past ten years. Even better was the thought of what he looked like when he was informed that he'd basically offered to remove her maidenhead personally. That brought an outright snort of amusement to the surface. It had to have been a priceless moment. Maybe Minerva would put it in a pensieve for her later.

She smiled to herself and rose, stretching with a groan. As amusing as it was to ponder the mystery that was Severus Snape, she had a lot of grading to get finished, and a lot of research to get started on. They didn't have long until Samhain and there was much to prepare for. With a deep sigh, she plopped herself down at her desk, preparing to be there for the long haul.

Part 2