Soul Searching

Soul Searching Soul Searching By Quillusion Chapter 12   My palms are sweating. They’re actually sweating. Ordinarily I would put the book down to keep it from getting wet, but I can’t let go.   I’ve wanted to read this book for so long, I’d almost given up hope that it was even real. Holding it in my hands now, I am still having a hard time believing it’s true.   I am already sitting down, which is just as well. I lift my eyes from that leather-bound cover, feeling the f sti sticking sensation as my gaze reluctantly peels off the green surface. If I look away from it, will it vanish?   A quick, almost furtive glance around me shows no sign of Janine. She left before I awoke this morning, leaving a short note saying she was off to a small henge in Shropshire and wouldn’t be back before dinnertime; considering how rarely she leaves the house, let alone Amesbury, I am doubly grateful for Mr. Nooke’s timing. There’s no way I could have had this book and not read it; I would have done something rash to get rid of my roommate, and that might have been awkward.   Certain I am alone now- and feeling mightily paranoid, given how wrong Professor Snape was one night when he thought he was alone- I clutch the book to my chest and scurry to mttlettle bedroom. One quick swipe at the blinds gives me complete privacy, though I cast a charm to prevent eavesdropping just in case. In a sudden moment of caution, I add a silencing charm, to be doubly safe. Then, alone at last with my treasure, I gingerly settle on my bed, savoring the moment.  9;Wi9;With a slow, deliberate movement full of something very like ceremony, I set my fingers to the edge of the cover and open the book.   There is a small piece of notepaper laid on the endpaper. It is Nooke’s stationery, soft white with crimson- and silver-inked letterhead.   Dear Miss Granger, Welcome to the Nooke’s of the Month Club! We are honored to list you on its roll. This is the first (and complimentary) installment of your book selections; each subsequent delivery will arrive at the same time each month by Owl Post. We use our exclusive Taste Charm to make your selections for you; each month will bring the book or other bibliophilic item from our extensive collection that you most want to read. At times, the charm will reveal wishes you never knew you had, so don’t be surprised if something off the beaten path arrives! The talisman we charmed when you signed up for the Club will even take into account new and current interests of yours, so sit back and relax. The best of the book world will be delivered right to your door. We hope you enjoy your books! Charges will be billed to your account. If at any time you are not satisfied, or wish to return the book we send, please send an owl to our shop in Diagon Alley and we will collect the book and credit your account accordingly. Please do not hesitate to contact us with any questions. Sincerely, Marjorie Siskins Director of Distributions, Nooke’s Ltd.   I doubt I will be sending this book back. It is at once charming and surprising that this is the volume I most want to read in the world, when there are so many texts and tomes I could use for my work if they were only available in England; still I would not argue, since they are spot-on. I’d take this book over any other on the planet right now. I wonder if they would have sent me this particular book before I knew Professor Snape had a copy; if the charm can reveal secret desires, perhaps it would have unearthed something I never let myself acknowledge.   Maybe not. But it certainly makes me wonder how Snape got a copy. Staring at the notepaper before me, I suddenly wonder if Snape had an interest in me before he joined the book of the month club. He seems to have had just such an interest, given how much he knows about when things happened to me… physically. That thought gives me a pleasant tingle. But then, perhaps he’s had thek fok for a long time, and it came merely because the Taste Charm knew he wanted to read something in the line of romantic or erotic stories.   That question, at least, I can answer. Turning another page gets me to the copyright information, and I let my eyes drift down over the print on the left-hand side of the page.   I note the month and year- first edition, my brain absently records- and conclude that Snape can’t have had this book for more than two years.   Which means that his interest in me predates the arrival of The WIKTT Archives to grace his fireside bookshelf.   For reasons I can’t explain, that exhilarates me.   I turn my eyes to the title page, only to see another small note, this one from Mr. Nooke himself. It is written in his crabbed hand, and it takes me a moment to decipher it.   Miss Granger, I find it interesting that this particular book has been chosen for you. It is not, strictly speaking, a normal publication, as it arrived, unsolicited, from one of our less-frequently-visited parallel universes. Only two copies of the book were supplied; the other one has already been sent out on this list, and it too was the first book sent out for that member. This highly unusual arrangement suggests to me that there might be greater powers at work here, and that you would do well to consider this. I do hope you enjoy this selection. Sincerely, The signature at the bottom was illegible except for the N in Nooke.   Only two copies. I really want to know who these WIKTT people are, but I can consider that later. For now, I want to read.   Six hours later, I am well into the book and unable to put it down. I’ve spent most of today reading an incredible story titled Roman Holiday. I can’t help but wonder if this parallel universe has Audrey Hepburn films, but it doesn’t matter- this story is incredible! It’s made me rethink my haircut, my opinion of Draco Malfoy, and my choice of career. It’s intoxicating, knowing that everything in this book could apply to me in real life, because someone somewhere thought it could apply to me in this book. It’s the most affirming thing I’ve ever read, and I think that this green book has already changed my life irrevocably by opening my eyes to a man I might have otherwise overlooked, to my eternal misfortune. Knowing that Severus has read these stories, too, is titillating as well as affirming; I know he’s been moved to passion by these works, and that is no small piece of flattery.   My ribs hurt from laughing and gasping; I’m still giggling over The Little Citrus that Could and The Hula Dancer of Truth, and wishing fervently that Sal was real. I think I just might have to go poke about Hogwarts a bit to see if any of this has a basis in reality. I wipe my eyes and sit up, sighing with regret that the story is over. Happy Snape was a welcome part of the story, and I’m wishing there were more scenes like that in the book, psyched as I was to see myself doing cool things and getting credit like Harry usually does.   When I turn the page and see Jewel of the Nile described as the sequel to Roman Holiday, I fling myself back on the bed and lose another hour.   Oh… muchter.ter.   Much better.   If the Pronouncements of Eros aren’t real, then I will find a way to invent them, just to show them to Severus Snape at my first opportunity. I must find out where this Anna person lives, and owl her… oh, wait. Parallel universe. Well, she must be a powerful witch to know so much about magic, so it’s worth a go. Can’t think now… reading…   I read Hermione’s Dilemma all the way through and grind my teeth with frustration as nd tnd the bottom of the page covered in fog, which I have learned means a story is either unfinished, or a work in progress; I had reached what I thought was the end of Jewel of the Nile only to see another chapter materialize in front of me out of just such a fog. I stared at that page for another twenty minutes, hoping for more, but to no avail. I will be checking back, you may be certain.   Falling Farther In takes up much of the rest of the afternoon, and Marrach eats up the early hours of evening. Turnabout and Fair Play take up two hours, because I reread them several times (they’re short enough for that). Looking at the binding, I realize I have so much more to read that it will take days to finish; it’s like realizing you have the entire bag of chocolate left to eat.   I read Her Seventh Year next, and find myself grinning evilly. Thanks, Gina; I think I will put that somewhere in the back of my mind for use, someday when I ‘m in a position to torture the Potions master in such a deliciously intimate way. And make no mistake, I intend to put myself in just such a position. Soon. Turning the page, I find another story by Gina, entitled A Friendly Wager; the ending has me howling with surprise, delight, and hilarity. I have to put the book down for a while to giggle with delight.   I read The Gift Horse next, and feel a flare of incredible jealousy when I realize that I am not in this story. That surprises me; I’m not normally a very jealous person, but it would seem that where Snape is concerned, I have begun to feel rather proprietary. I contemplate the author, wondering if she, like so many of the other authors, has more than one piece in the book. I decide to reserve judgment on her for now, since she took such good care of Severus; but I can’t help wondering if she’ll ever write something where she does me a few favors, too.   By now it’s dark out; I’ve no idea where Janine is. I grin; more grist for the rumor mill. By breakfast, common knowledge will have her eloping to Gretna Green with an alchemist from Surrey. I reluctantly close the book, tucking it under my pillow to keep it from prying eyes. I can’t let anyone see this book, certainly not my gossiping roommate- it never fails to amaze me that people who will not speak a word to one another on the subject of their work will not keep any words to themselves on the matter of their colleagues. Given that many of these stories take place during my student years (oh delicious thought), I will not risk the possibility of someone believing them and getting Severus in trouble for something I only wish he had really done. I suppose that seems rather out of character for me; I ‘m usually such a rule- follower. But either Harry and Ron are rubbing off on me at last, or I’m growing past that, because many of the things in that book which I might once have thought out of character for me now sound most appealing. Some of them would only work in a fantasy world, or played out with a trusted lover, but some of them are very possible, and every last one agrees with me.   And all of them would be welcome right about now. Twelve hours of stories about a Severus Snape who actually wants to have something to do with me and my knickers has left me in a heated state. Leaning back on the pillows, I let myself remember the stories.   Words, even just the shape of them on the page, or the sound of them, can seem so erotic. The images evoked by a good turn of phrase can titillate, and the sensations echoing in well-written erotica such as the contents of the green book can set the blood humming. My hands drift down over my body, caressing my breasts and belly and thighs, and when my fingers slide up to unbutton my shirt and unclasp my bra, I recall a scene from The Fourth Unforgivable.   I was playing with my breasts, stimulating myself there to match the pleasurable sensation between my legs as Severus’s mouth caressed me, and he stopped to watch me, intensely aroused by the sight. I think about his face, think about what he might be feeling while doing exactly that, and arousal bursts into full flower. I shuck my jeans off quickly, my underthings following, until I am wearing only my unbuttoned shirt under the unbuttoned robes I’ve worn all day. I reach one hand down between my legs, feeling the slickness there from twelve hours of constantly thinking about Snape. Once again, I find myself wishing I could show him how wet he makes me; I have reason to think he’d enjoy the knowledge.   I know what I like, what I want, and my fingers settle into my favorite rhythm, caressing my clitoris and labia and exciting me unbearably. My other hand lightly teases my nipples, and I start to writhe on the bed, small whimpers tripping between my lips as I climb higher.   I’m so excited now that there are no inhibitions. I imagine Severus lying beside me on the bed, face tight with desire, eyes burning with arousal, and I whimper again. I can just imagine his voice, whispering erotic promises to me: "Soon, Hermione, but not yet… I want you on the edge when I take you this first time." I can almost feel his mouth on my neck, as if it were real, and the sensation burns gooseflesh all the way to the base of my spine. In my mind, the fingers between my legs are not my own.   I arch into his touch, feeling the coil wind tightly, and then I am there, feeling the explosion paradoxically pull my body tightly together, and I can hear my voice crying his name over and over. It’s so satisfying to scream his name during orgasm- three syllables shortened to two- and I sink back to my pillows, trembling, sweating, wishing he were here.   "Severus," I murmur again, his name a soft promise to myself. Would I have felt this way about him, if not for the book? I don’t care. Mr. Nooke is right; there are other powers working here, and I am not one to stop them. They seem to be a great deal more perceptive than I. I drift into contented sleep, to dream of black hair spread on my pillow, the resonant timbre of his voice soothing me in the night.   I haven’t slept so well in weeks. No wonder, I think to myself; it’s been so busy I’ve had no time to do anything but write up results. I resolve to let myself read one story an evening, and to do whatever it inspires me to do, with the thought that it might improve my mood and my overall ability to handle stress. So, that night, I read A Higher Price, which does a marvelous job of blending plot and intrigue with lemon-scented steam. The next morning I can’t resist the urge to read more, so I pick up the book and look for updates of Jewel of the Nile- no luck yet, I’m being greedy- then read a beautiful and clever story called Lost and Found. That takes up most of the morning, but does not stop me from putting my work down early that night to read Compelling the Heart, after which I repeat my performance of the first evening, complete with the satisfaction of Severus’s name on my lips at the end. Good thing I’ve taken the same precautions every night as I did the first night.   When I’m done, I still have enough time to read Distraction, followed by the sequel, Detention, which spicy tales leave me having to partake of a second helping of self-pleasure. The third night, I read Pawn to Queen, which keeps me up till two in the morning, and then deprives me of sleep as I wonder about the ending of this unfinished work so full of interesting angles. Next night it’s Lightning Strikes (just my luck to find two utterly irresistible and well-done but unfinished works in a row!), which gives me the first thought of what might happen if, someday, Severus and I were to have a child.   That thought gives me pause. Would he want a child? Would a child change how he sees himself and the world? For a man who clearly sees himself as temporary, it just might be a staggering change of perspective, to think of part of him living on. I’d love to know what he thought when he read this story. I bite my lip, considering, then smile at the sexy image of Severus Snape being possessive of me, even before he has the technical right. Slow down, Granger. You’ve got to get him to bed before you can contemplate kids. What a pleasant challenge….   The next night it’s Blank Slate- I love the premise, as well as the slight stretch of probability- after all, that’s what fantasies are for- and a series of stories entitled Ravenous, Lionheart, anrpenrpentine. Yum- gritty reality lemons with just a hint of sweetness! The sixth night I read Lost, which is also unfinished but is excellent; I’m so eager for continuation on this one that I grab parchment and a Dict-O-Quill and write some more on it myself, just to relieve the tension.   I stretch luxuriously as I prepare for bed that night. Almost a whole week of incredible stories full of sexy Potions master, and a Hermione nothing short of incredible. I will get spoiled at this rate, and there’s no end in sight, because I’ve been measuring the book’s thickness, and it’s growing. I think this is a real-time archive, with things constantly being added from wherever these women are. My lips twitch with amusement; I hope this thing goes into multiple volumes instead of enlarging to the point where I won’t be able to lift it.   No point in worrying about that, I tell myself, remembering Ron’s voice from long ago: Are you, or are you not, a witch? That’s why there are Reduction spells and weight-reducing charms. Of course, if I knew how to stop time so I could read them all in one go, I’d have something. I wonder if the Extemporis in Lightning Strikes is real- must look into that tomorrow.   But first, bed. Tomorrow is the day when we will test the potion again, and I’d rather be rested than not when I work the henge.   Just before I turn out the light, I grab my quill and ink, and scrawl a quick note to Nooke’s:   Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!     A/N: Wow, a long list of acknowledgements on the horizon! I know a few of these fics aren’t actually in the WIKTT files, but I think most of the authors are on the list. And if they aren’t, they should be… Credit Where Credit Is Due: A Higher Price belongs to Claire and Anne. Roman Holiday and Jewel of the Nile belong to Anna. Hermione’s Dilemma and Lost belong to Elaine. Falling Farther In belongs to KazVL. Marrach belongs to Kathy (Damiana). Turnabout, Fair Play, and Pawn to Queen belong to Riley. Her Seventh Year and A Friendly Wager belong to Gina. Lost and Found belongs to Venus de Milo. Compelling the Heart, Distraction, Detention, Blank Slate, and Lightning Strikes belong to Auror Borealis. The Fourth Unforgivable belongs to Rhosymedre. Ravenous, Lionheart, and Serpentine belong to Vulgarweed. The Gift Horse belongs to Quillusion (me). I didn’t write to ask permission to use the titles of the stories, which I hope is OK; they’re all listed in the group files or on FF.net and I don’t think there are any spoilers. If people read this, it might be good publicity, too. And a teeny part of me wonders if people won’t think of things to add to their unfinished works if they see it here… Hermione was not the only one to write a continuation of someone else’s story to relieve the agony of ‘THERE’S NO MORE!!!’ Ah, but this is not the last you shall see of our archives. There will likely be more references to come!!! Q