A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 12 ~ Discovery

Severus lay in the bed beside a sleeping Hermione, frowning slightly as he looked down at her. He had some day with the witch. First, she awakened him at eleven, surprising him with breakfast in bed. She had already eaten, but sat on the edge of the bed and watched him eat, her eyes soft. Afterwards, she insisted on giving him a bath and washing his hair. This was a rarity to say the least. Hermione washed his hair first, and while bathing him was pulled into the sudsy water by the Potions Master and thoroughly ravished.

Then, later in the day…she let him bugger her. Hermione hardly ever gave herself to the wizard that way, and although Severus enjoyed himself immensely, he was beginning to get suspicious. When she blew him in the kitchen later on, Severus knew something was going on. Hermione was not usually this sexually accommodating. True, he had been gone a month, but still…Hermione was acting uncharacteristically. Severus knew that whenever she acted out of character…the witch was up to something.

The truth was Hermione was trying to ease her own guilt about how hard a time she gave Severus before she knew exactly what he was working on. Severus was quite a randy wizard, but she kept him on a short leash most of the time or she’d never get anything done when he was around. But her loosening of the wire, so to speak had succeeded in making the Potions Master question her motives. When he commented on how “agreeable” she was being, Hermione told him that she was just feeling very randy and perhaps she was ovulating.

“You ovulate every month. You never act like this,” he responded, frowning at her. Hermione turned on the wizard and put her hands on her hips.

“Are you complaining? I can turn the temperature WAY down if you are, Severus,” she said pointedly.

The Potions Master could have sworn an icy blast hit him when Hermione said that.

“No. I wasn’t complaining. I was just…just making an observation,” he replied.

“It’s duly noted,” Hermione sniffed, exiting the living room.

Severus let out a sigh, but still believed something was going on with the witch. Hermione was quite sneaky, one of her more Slytherin-like qualities.

Now the wizard looked down at her sleeping form. She’d be out for a couple of hours, because the Potions Master made sure she was thoroughly exhausted from their last round of sex. Normally, Severus would be asleep as well, but puzzling over Hermione’s actions today had him a bit wired. Besides, he needed her in a deep sleep for what he was going to do.

“Legilimens,” he breathed, entering Hermione’s mind.

It was full of all kinds of images, flickering and flashing, making the wizard feel a bit disoriented.

“How does she even think with all this going on?” he said to himself, walking through her mind and studying the memories and thoughts of his lover. Recent memories were always at the forefront, and Severus looked through them until he found one of Hermione sitting up while he was asleep in bed. He focused on it, and the other images around it faded.

He watched as Hermione pushed his head and his sleeping image snorted and faced away from her. She was testing how soundly he was asleep. Severus got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as she leaned over him.

“Legilimens,” she whispered.

Why…the little minx. Sneaking into his mind while he was asleep. Severus had to think for a moment. Why hadn’t he woke up at her initial intrusion?

Oh. Firewhiskey. Damn it.

Severus smirked as he saw Hermione mentally enter his mind. It was blank except for flashes of light. She couldn’t have found out anything. Then his eyes narrowed as she transformed into Albus. Oh, she was smart. Too smart for her own good.

Severus watched as she framed a statement that made his mind respond. Images concerning his work appeared and the witch saw part of what he was doing while away and what his mission was. To find Bella and the child.

Severus pulled out of Hermione’s mind and stared down at her, not knowing whether to strangle her for invading his privacy or praise her for being so resourceful and cunning. It was a very, very Slytherin act.

Now he understood why she let him fuck her with impunity.

She felt guilty.

Well, the dragon was out of the cave now. At least he understood her sudden change of heart, and felt a bit relieved she did know what was going on. She would stay with him.

Severus studied Hermione. She looked so innocent lying there, her hair partially hiding her features. Then his eyes narrowed. Still, she couldn’t get away with doing what she’d done. So the witch was feeling guilty and trying to absolve her guilt sexually?

Severus pursed his lips.

He’d help her absolve it all right.

After all…confession was supposed to be good for the soul.

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Two Death Eaters struggled with a wildly kicking, cursing muggle woman who spat and hissed at them, despite being slapped twice and punched in the belly once. They were bringing her to the revel.

“Damn it, Fredrick, why don’t you just stun her?” Wooten panted, stretching out the woman’s arm so she couldn’t reach him with her feet.

She spit on him and he backhanded her, which only made the brunette scream with rage and try to stomp on his foot. She was in jeans, a t-shirt and trainers. They had grabbed her when she was closing up a muggle sweet shop.

”I like them feisty,” Fredrick replied, wrenching the screaming woman, a nasty smile on his face. “I’m going to fuck her first.”

“You’re going to have to beat her half to death just to get her to lie still,” Wooten replied, hanging on to the muggle.

“You let me go, you bloody bastards!” Eloise Hedgeberry screamed, kicking at both masked men as they dragged her through a hidden door in the back of Pumbleberry’s manor, then descending a long flight of stairs. Both had a secure hold on her arms, but the woman lunged forward as they were three or four steps from the bottom and they all tumbled forward, the wizards losing their grip on her as they hit the floor.

Eloise scrambled to her feet and kicked Wooten in the balls before she fled down the torch lit corridor. She could hear Fredrick laughing hysterically behind her at Wooten’s condition as he curled over on his knees, both hands clutching at his wounded nads.

“I’m going to kill that muggle,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Not before I stick my cock in her,” Fredrick said, “Come on. Let’s catch her before she walks into the revel herself. Then someone else will take first stab.”

The corridor led to the large room where the revel was held, and Eloise was running straight for it. Fredrick raced behind her, but Wooten…he couldn’t do much of anything but stagger. She got him good.

Fenrir Greyback was walking up the corridor when Eloise ran right into him. The werewolf caught her by the arm.

“What’s this?” he asked, hoisting her up by it. “A muggle?”

“You let me go!” Eloise screamed at him, slapping his bearded face as hard as she could, then kicking at him with both her legs. Fenrir could see the bruises on her face. Someone had been trying to tame her. He grinned at the woman with his pointed teeth.

Fenrir lowered her back to the ground, but held on to her arm. She pulled away desperately, then started beating on Fenrir, who ducked his head and raised his arm to protect his face, still smiling at the angry muggle woman. She had heart, he had to give her that. Most were scared to death when they arrived at a revel.

“You know you’re going to be raped and killed, don’t you muggle?” he said to her as she continued attacking him.

“I figured that,” she hissed, kicking Fenrir in the shin and making the werewolf wince, “but I hope I’m killed first…or get a chance to kill one of you before I die. Fucking animals!”

Fredrick appeared in the upper corridor and skidded to a stop when he saw Eloise with Fenrir. The muggle was attacking him, and the werewolf was letting her. Shit. If Fenrir wanted her, there was nothing Fredrick could do.

Fredrick walked up to them.

“I see you caught my runaway, Fenrir,” Fredrick said jovially as he made his claim on the muggle woman, who stopped attacking Fenrir and turned her brown eyes on Fredrick.

“This hellcat is yours?” Fenrir asked him.

The woman let out a shriek and started kicking at Fenrir again. He grinned at her then looked at Fredrick.

“Yes,” Fredrick said.

Fenrir shook the woman suddenly, making her teeth rattle in her head. As soon as she recovered, Eloise tried to scratch Fenrir’s face. She had to reach to do it…he was so big. The woman was about five foot five. Fenrir moved his head aside, then wrapped his arm around her throat, pulling her back against him. He made a big show of sniffing her as she cursed him terribly. He sniffed her hair, throat and face, then looked at Fredrick.

“She’s not yours anymore,” he growled at the wizard, “She’s mine.”

Wooten limped up, glaring at Eloise, his eyes wild. He didn’t seem to see anyone else he was so enraged.

“I’m going to kill you, you bitch!” he snarled, drawing his wand

“Wooten!” Fredrick said warningly. But it was too late.

Fenrir quickly adjusted his hold on the muggle, wrapping one muscular arm around her waist and leaped toward Wooten, Eloise screaming as she flew with the werewolf. He had to have jumped at least fifteen feet from a standing position, landing in front of Wooten, and with a single backhanded swing, slammed the wizard into the stone wall of the corridor, cracking his head open in the process. Wooten slid down the wall, a small smear of blood left behind.

“Don’t fuck with what’s mine,” Fenrir snarled at the unconscious wizard. Fredrick ran to Wooten and checked him. He was still breathing.

“Good for you! I hope you die!!” Eloise hissed at the downed wizard.

Fredrick looked up at her, frowning, but didn’t say anything. Fenrir grinned at the muggle’s viciousness.

“You’re a fierce one,” he said to her.

“I hope you die too, you fuck,” Eloise hissed, hoping to make him just put her out of her misery.

By the way the wizards were talking as they struggled to bring her here, she was going to be raped by a lot of men…or wizards. She would rather just die and go into oblivion than have that happen. Eloise was thirty-one years old and had been raped once before in her early twenties. It had been horrible. It was just one man and she didn’t fight. She was too afraid to try to escape the first time. They never caught her rapist.

Now, she wasn’t afraid to fight. It wasn’t going to happen to her again. She’d rather be killed.

“Damn, Fenrir. You didn’t have to hit him so hard,” Fredrick complained, standing up and taking off his robes and folding them into a pillow which he slid under Wooten’s head.

“He was about to hex both of us, Fredrick. What was I supposed to do? Wait for him to do it? Besides, I claimed this muggle. He’s lucky he isn’t dead,” Fenrir said.

Fredrick looked at Eloise, his eyes narrowed.

“You are going to bring her to the revel aren’t you?” he asked the werewolf.

“I don’t know. It depends,” Fenrir replied. “Right now, she’s for me.”

Eloise began to struggle again, throwing her fists back and hitting Fenrir in the face. The werewolf tightened his hold on her, cutting off Eloise’s air. Her flailing slowed then stopped, though her brown eyes were filled with hatred.

Fredrick’s eyes flicked over the muggle woman. He wished they had never grabbed her. Now Wooten was hurt. The wizard groaned from the floor and shifted slightly.

“You better get him some help if you want him to live,” Fenrir said, releasing his hold on Eloise and catching her by the wrist and dragging her down the hall after him.

Fredrick watched them go, his face twisted with anger. Then Wooten groaned again.

“I’ll be back, Wooten,” he said, hurrying to the revel to find Pumbleberry and get his friend some help.

“Let me go! Where are you taking me?” Eloise screamed at Fenrir, who ignored her yelling and yanked her along roughly behind him.

Suddenly he stopped, turned to the corridor wall and pressed several bricks. A door slid back and Fenrir slung Eloise inside the small torch lit room behind it, entering behind her, the door sliding back. In the room was a table, two chairs and a small bed. A small mirror hung on the wall.

“Sit down!” Fenrir snarled at her.

Eloise looked at the bed, then at Fenrir. He was a huge, rough-looking man with matted hair and strange yellow eyes. He was wearing robes but they were tight around him as if too small. He didn’t look or sound normal. His voice was kind of raspy and growly. But if there was a bed…he probably intended on using it. Fuck that.

Eloise attacked Fenrir again, doing absolutely no damage to the werewolf, who kept smiling at her when she shrieked and leaped on him. He did avoid her nails however, and pushed her face several times so she staggered back a few times. Then she would collect herself and attack him again.

Fenrir let her rage until she practically wore herself out. Panting, she looked up at him.

“Kill me,” she said, her voice full of despair. For the first time, her eyes filled with tears. “I’d rather die than be raped again.”

“You think death better than rape? You might survive a rape,” Fenrir said, knowing full well if the Death Eaters got her, she was as good as dead.

“I don’t want to survive another one,” Eloise said. She looked at the wall where the mirror rested. Then her eyes slid back to Fenrir. They looked a bit crazed.

“Mind if I check my face?” she asked the werewolf, who nodded.

“Go ahead,” he growled.

Eloise walked over to the mirror and looked in it. Suddenly she grabbed it off the wall, smashed it and grabbed a shard, plunging it into her throat, blood gushing from the wound.

Normally, Fenrir’s reflexes were fast enough to have stopped Eloise when she smashed the mirror, but he was so shocked, he froze for a moment…and a moment was all it took.

He stared at the dying woman, her blood pouring out on the floor.

“Crazy muggle,” he breathed, walking over to her.

Eloise’s eyes were glazing as she looked up at him.

“Death is better,” she rasped.

Fenrir’s yellow eyes rested on her for a moment.

“Maybe it is, muggle…but not for you. You have the heart of a warrior,” he said, bending and grabbing her limp body, lifting her to eye level. It was clear Eloise was dying.

“I am in need of warriors,” he growled at the muggle woman, “And a mate. A strong one.”

Then he bit her.

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A/N: Fenrir is something else. So is Eloise. So, Severus found out what Hermione did. It’s her own fault. She should have acted more in character…but guilt does that to a person. Thanks for reading.