The Burning Pen

A Looping of the Scales by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 8

All recognizable characters belong to JKR. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 8 ~ Throwing Down the Gauntlet

Hermione entered the Potions office, Snape closing the door behind her. She felt slightly uncomfortable as he looked at her, then walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book. The wall slid back and to the side, revealing an entrance.

”My quarters, for now,” Snape said, walking in.

Hermione followed, looking at all the books and the sparse décor as Snape added wood to the dimming fire with his wand. Seeing the desk, Hermione walked over to it, pulled off her knapsack and began piling books on it. When she finished, she turned and nearly screamed because Snape was so close to her, he was nearly on top of her.

”I need an oath from you,” he breathed at her.

”An oath?” Hermione said weakly as he invaded her personal space, his eyes narrowed.

”I told you what I was working on when this happened. You can’t tell anyone what it was. No one,” he hissed at her, so close now Hermione was slightly leaning back against the desk.

“I swear I won’t tell anyone the potion you were working on,” she said softly. Magic swirled around them, and Snape stepped back, satisfied. He looked at the books.

”I don’t understand why you don’t want anyone to know what you were working on. Someone might be able to make an antidote,” Hermione said.

”They’d have to create an entirely new potion. There’s a Shrinking potion that youthens living creatures other than humans, but there's no Enlarging potion that ages creatures, human or otherwise. Not many people are able to brew new potions. Most are adaptations of what’s already in existence. I want to protect my interests. Perhaps one day I’ll work on it again. Now, what are all these books and papers?”

”They contain information about you,” Hermione said softly.

Snape looked at the pile then said, “I was told someone else has information about me. Harry Potter. I gave him my memories. I want to know why.”

Hermione looked down at the floor.

”It’s complicated,” she said.

”I have excellent comprehension. Do you know why I gave him my memories?”

Hermione looked up at him.

”You were—you were dying,” she said softly.

”What? Dying?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“You were dying and I think out of desperation you gave Harry your memories so he’d know what he had to do to defeat Voldemort, or Tom Riddle. You—didn’t appear to have time to tell him—“

”Didn’t—appear to have—wait, were you there? When I was dying, were you there?”

Hermione nodded.

”What happened to me? Why was I dying and how did I survive?”

Hermione explained that Voldemort had turned on him and had his snake bite him. When the despot left, Harry came to him and that was when he gave him the memories, and then they all left because it appeared he was dead.

”You—you didn’t check to see if I was completely dead?” Snape asked in a low voice.

”You’d lost a lot of blood—and besides, we believed you were a traitor and a Death Eater. We had enough living Death Eaters to worry about. We weren’t about to save one to add to their numbers—“

Snape’s narrowed eyes rested on her.

“But I was Dumbledore’s man,” he hissed.

”You had killed him. We didn’t know of the plan, then, Severus.”

”So you all just left me on the floor of the Shrieking Shack in a pool of my own blood. That was to be my final reward.”

”It appeared you earned it,” Hermione replied, not about to take the blame for it.

Snape stared at her for a moment, then whirled and walked over to one of the armchairs near the fireplace and sat down, looking into the fire, the flickering light dancing over his features and catching his black eyes.

Hermione selected a book, picked it up and walked over, sitting in the armchair next to his. A small table rested between them.

Snape was silent for about fifteen minutes. Hermione didn’t try to talk to him at all. She knew he was processing the information she’d given him. It had to be rather horrible to find out you’d been left for dead.

”So, that’s how important I was,” he said softly.

”No, no you were very important. We couldn’t have done anything without your help,” Hermione told him.

Snape turned his head to look at her.

”You wouldn’t know that by the way you all left me in that shack,” he hissed.

”Look. You need to know your story, Severus. Maybe it will make more sense if we start at the beginning.”

”I want my memories back from Potter.”

”They aren’t complete memories. Most of them are about you and Lily—up to when you were no longer friends,” Hermione said.

”I don’t need those. I remember that. She—she wouldn’t forgive me,” he said softly, then his eyes hardened. “I need the memories of what happened after I graduated.”

”It’s mostly you and Dumbledore. Not much else.”

”They’re my memories and I want them back. I don’t care how small.”

Hermione frowned at him.

”They aren’t going to help you, you know.”

”Don’t presume to know what will help me. You don’t know it all. Just have Potter put them in a Pensieve for me.”

Hermione frowned.

”I’m not your—your secretary. Go ask him yourself,” Hermione said, irritated that he was trying to order her about like a peon.

”I don’t want to talk to him. He looks too much like his father.”

”You’re going to have to get over that.”

Snape’s mouth worked a little as he looked at her. He really didn’t want to deal with James’ and Lily’s son right now. Everything was too raw. But, he did want those memories.

”Hermione, please would you get those memories for me?” he asked her in a strained voice.

Hermione looked mutinous for a moment, but she knew that he really did need her help. So, like the soft-hearted witch she was, she capitulated. But not without a string or two.

“I will, but under one condition,” the witch said as his face contorted. Conditions? What bloody conditions? Was everyone in his life manipulative?

”What is it?”

”I want you to find out as much as you can about yourself before viewing those memories. It might give you a more balanced outlook.”

”Nothing seems the least bit balanced to me,” he snarked, looking back at the fire.

Hermione didn’t respond. She had told him the conditions. It was up to him whether or not to accept them.

”Fine,” he spat.

“Good. Now, here’s the 1978 yearbook,” she said opening it up and turning the page to where his sour-faced photo was. Instead of posing for the camera, it appeared he just stared at it, with little motion at all. Everyone else was winking, smiling and grinning.

“Let me see that,” he said, taking the book out of her hands and looking at his picture. He looked just as he did now. He read the information under his photo.

”I made the highest NEWT marks in the school that year,” he said smugly. “I even beat out the Ravenclaws.”

Hermione’s eyes immediately narrowed. Highest marks? That was HER territory.

”Are you going to be taking the NEWTS again?” she asked him lightly.

He nodded.

”I studied for them, so, yes, I’m taking them,” he replied.

”Oh. Well, I wish you luck. The curriculum has changed since you’ve been in school. I imagine your knowledge is a bit—outdated.”

Snape scowled at her.

”What are you talking about? The NEWTS test your skills,” he snarled at her

”They test your academic knowledge as well. Since you’re seventeen again and don’t have your memories, you don’t know all the new data. Besides, I make the highest marks in the school. I have since my first year.”

Snape frowned at her.

”A Gryffindor make the highest marks? That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows Gryffindors are long on brawn and short on brains.”

”Do I look brawny to you?” Hermione snapped at him.

No. Hermione was about as unbrawny as they came.

”Well, you’re not smarter than me,” he replied.

”You don’t know that. Most likely my marks will top yours with points to spare,” Hermione hissed back at him, her hackles up now.

Snape considered. Hermione did have an edge because she did know about the advances made in magic over the years. He didn’t.

”What month is it?” he asked her.

”Late March.”

Snape gave her a little smirk.

”I have more than enough time to bone up on the latest developments for the NEWTS,” he told her. “All I need are the proper study aids. Don’t polish off that pedestal yet, Hermione Granger. You have competition.”

This was precisely what Snape needed. Something to focus on, to work toward. Outdoing a know-it-all Gryffindor would be very satisfying. He still didn’t like the house and the old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was very much alive. Without the Marauders to harass him, he’d be able to move around the castle freely and do what he needed to get done without interruption or fear of attack. His marks might have been even higher his last year if not for Potter and Black.

It wouldn’t be that way this time.

”I don’t mind competition. I just hope you aren’t too disappointed when you place second, or third or maybe even tenth in class,” Hermione replied, her eyes narrowed. “There are others who are smart, too.”

”We’ll see,” Snape said, intending on looking up Hermione’s potions marks as soon as she left. It was always wise to know one’s opponent’s strengths and weaknesses.

Snape and Hermione glared at each other for a few moments, then Hermione went and retrieved another book. She plunked it down on the table with a bit of attitude.

”This is this year’s version of Hogwarts, a History. It tells about the final battle against Lord Voldemort and has a lot of information about you in there. You should start with that, then we can go backwards a bit. This will just give you the bigger picture of where you were before the accident. Details can be filled in later. Start with when you were hired at Hogwarts.”

Snape picked up the book and looked at Hermione with furrowed brows.

”You are extremely bossy,” he observed.

Hermione pushed her bushy hair back.

”No, I’m not bossy. I just know what needs to be done and tell people. It makes it so much easier than waiting for them to figure it out for themselves.”

Snape snorted.

”Like I said. Bossy.”

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Hermione left Snape two hours later to meet Ron and Harry by the lake for yet another grueling study lesson. Ron hated it. These lessons just ate up the weekends. But at least they got in a bit of flying. They now waited for her, books piled on the boulders, ink and quills beside them. Ginny had skived off, and was in the Gryffindor common room playing wizarding chess.

”I’ll be glad when the NEWTS have come and gone,” Ron muttered. “My brain feels as if it’s going to burst, and Hermione is still stuffing stuff inside it.”

Harry grinned.

”Oh, come on, Ron. She just wants us to do well. If we do poorly, then she’s going to feel that it’s a direct reflection on her. She’s smart, so she wants us to be smart, too.”

”Nobody’s as smart as Hermione, Harry. She was born with a fully developed brain. Maybe even two brains,” he replied as Hermione walked up and smiled at them.

”Ready for another rousing session of Learning?” she asked the wizards brightly.

”Hoo-rah!” Ron muttered as she instructed them to open their Advanced Herbology books.

”That’s the spirit, Ron,” she said with a smile.

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Severus sat at the desk in the office, behind a securely warded door, leafing through Hermione’s marks. He felt a bit better.

After Hermione left, Headmistress McGonagall contacted him by Floo and assured him everything was all right and she understood why he was so upset. She also informed him Albus’ portrait hadn’t been destroyed. He wasn’t so pleased about that.

Next time he’d have to take better aim.

She told him to just try and relax for the rest of the day and not to worry about anything. Like he could really do that. But snooping through Hermione’s records was an interesting way to burn a few hours.

Hm.

She did make decent marks in potions, although after reading a couple of her essays, he thought she had scored a bit low. He knew good essays when he read them. Then he saw the few detentions she’d received. Most of them were for challenging her marks. Oh, so that’s how it was. Apparently he gave her low marks on purpose. Probably to boost Slytherin a bit. Or maybe even because he didn’t like her when he was a teacher.

He found a few evaluations, then was sure he didn’t like her.

”Loud. Obnoxious. Fact-spouting. Does not follow directions properly. Gives two feet of parchment when only one is necessary. Questions everything. An extremely annoying student that needs to close her mouth and open her ears,” pronounced one evaluation.

Did he actually send this to her parents?

Snape began to wonder what kind of teacher he was. He had never imagined himself as a teacher, and certainly had no aspirations to be one while he attended Hogwarts. Had he been kind and patient with his pupils?

Somehow, he doubted it. Still, he’d like to see himself in action in a classroom setting. The next time he saw Hermione he’d ask if he could view her memories of him as a professor.

He was sure it would be quite interesting.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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