The Makeover - COMPLETED

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 16 ~ Several Trains of Thought


Lucius and Narcissa were in the parlor having brunch when the wizard suddenly dropped his cup of tea, grimacing and clutching his arm. Narcissa looked at her husband sympathetically.

“Another Phantom Summons, love?” she asked him, her ice-blue eyes full of concern.

Lucius gasped and after a few seconds released his arm.

“Yes. Thank the gods it was only a flare-up,” the wizard replied, pulling out his wand and scourgifying the broken cup and tea. “I wish someone could do something about this. Who knew the Dark Lord would keep hold of us even after death?”

Narcissa sighed. The willowy blonde witch had no answer for him, so said nothing.

Lucius stood up, crossed the room and exited the parlor, heading to the kitchen for more tea. The wizard had elves to serve him, but after getting hit with the summons, he felt like moving…it made him feel less helpless.

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All around the wizarding world, former deatheaters clutched their marks, and found themselves thankful the pain only lasted a few seconds. No one tried to answer the summons…they knew it was futile. All they could do was what they always did. Bear the pain.

But in the graveyard, secure in his underground stronghold, Peter Pettigrew was pacing back and forth in front of the beaker of his master’s blood, rubbing his arm and looking both excited and confused. He had felt the summons and the pain of it, but he shouldn’t have because he was in the presence of his master’s blood. That summons had come from someplace else. Had his master reformed in some other place and called him for assistance?

The rotund wizard didn’t know, but thought it could be a possibility. The summons had been too short for him to answer. He would have to go outside to follow it, since the wards in his domicile did not allow apparition. Next time he felt the pain of the call, he would make haste to answer it.

Maybe the Dark Lord had returned.

He looked at the beaker of blood.

“Wherever you are, Master,” the balding wizard intoned, “I will find you.”

The blood sat there, unresponsive.

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Severus strode past his office, heading directly for the Great Hall and lunch, his brow furrowed. He hadn’t intended on pressing Hermione as he had, but when she attempted to argue that she wasn’t naïve, it was as if something snapped in him. Severus didn’t like when others tried to correct him, and in the case of Hermione’s naivety the wizard knew he had her pegged. He just couldn't let that go without driving his point home in no uncertain manner.

The witch had absolutely no experience with wizards or with sex. Only the notions she had picked up from books and the deluded ideals of others concerning the proper way for males and females to interact. As far as the Professor was concerned, when it came to desire, there were no proper rules of conduct…only a proper ending with bodies entwined.

He turned on to the main hall, scattering students as he walked but hardly acknowledging them. Hermione’s reaction to him had been strong…he could have easily seduced the witch right there in her lab and gave her a proper education. It had crossed his mind for a moment, a quick moment but he held back. Severus wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck the witch. She was a virgin, and as such he had no way of knowing what she would expect from him afterwards. Love? Affection? She could get those sentiments easier from a stone than from him.

Momentary lust?

Now that he could give her.

Severus was used to fucking witches and walking away. There were only a couple of witches he engaged more than once. Both were prostitutes and still fresh at that point. He dropped them after a month or two when their wares became worn. He didn’t need another Sybil on his hands.

Yet, Hermione had always been a rather mature young witch. Maybe if she knew the rules of the game and was willing to accept him as he was, he could indulge himself. It was obvious to the wizard she was attracted to him. If he had kissed her, he could have fucked her as well…he had no doubt about that.

The wizard turned down the corridor that led to the staff entrance to the Great Hall. Perhaps he should play the Professor role in this case, and carefully educate the Spells Mistress in the way real wizards and witches dealt with sexuality and desires. Those who did not let social niceties restrict their urges or force morality upon them. Two consenting adults did not have to dance…in order to ‘dance.’ Even the gods fucked who they wanted when they wanted. Could men do less?

Of course, Slytherin philosophy played a large part in the Potions Master’s approach to sex, and Hermione was a Gryffindor with an entirely different set of values. Those values may work in a perfect world, but the world Severus was considering drawing Hermione into was far from perfect. It was his own dark construct where he was Lord and Master. Where physical desire and the animal nature were the norm of the day, humanity be damned. There were areas other than sex where the ‘higher facilities’ were much more practical. It only got in the way when it came to fucking.

If he did this, it would mean breaking the witch down in increments. Awakening her urges in such a way she was drawn to him. It would take more than simple seduction to change her values. True, he could fuck her as is…but what would be the fun in that? It would be much more challenging to make the witch wild for him, much more interesting to have her in a moral, ethical quandary and certainly much more rewarding when she admitted she wanted him rather than just taking her.

The Professor smirked darkly. Yes. He would show the witch how freeing giving in to her urges without the restraint of ‘proper conduct’ could be. It would be a most interesting game indeed.

In fact, it had already begun.

Severus swept into the Great Hall and took his seat. He glared at the students for several moments until they were properly terrorized then ordered his meal. He felt like steak.

Rare.

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Hermione finally exited her rooms, still trying to come to terms with what happened between herself and the Professor. When she went to use the loo, she found that her knickers were wet and sticky and had to change them.

What was it about the Professor that made her react as she did? He was all wrong. All wrong. It was easy to see he was not the romantic type. Actually he gave her the impression that he despised romance and thought it a waste of time. She couldn’t imagine the wizard courting any witch, but she could imagine him fucking one.

Hermione shuddered.

The Professor was so dark and intense…predatory. When he trapped her against the counter, she felt as if he were about to devour her, those black eyes like the eyes of a snake hypnotizing its prey before striking. She had felt mesmerized, as if unable to move without his permission. If Severus had been a snake, she would have walked right into his jaws.

And what he had said about her being naïve and having a lot to learn about the interactions between wizards and witches…it disturbed her. She knew how it was supposed to go. You met a wizard you were attracted to, got to know him, spent time together and let feelings develop. Then once you fell in love, you had sex, rewarding sex because you were in sync mentally and emotionally. It was natural the physical would follow. That was the way sex was supposed to work. A logical progression. His words came back to her:

"You would consider it ‘wrong’ to just let go and get fucked the way you secretly wanted without wasting all that time."

Of course she would consider it wrong just to fuck a wizard without a proper courtship. Only “loose” witches did such things. But the Professor considered courtship a waste of time and sex the real issue when witch and wizard came together. Well, that was his take on it…and his take was decidedly leaning toward his own self-gratification with as little effort as possible. It was sort of “if you like me, let’s fuck” attitude.

Hermione felt another tremor rush through her. She didn’t want to admit to herself that the naughtiness of that belief turned her on. Hermione had a thing for rule-breaking, though she hid it under the guise of “doing what was necessary at the time,” for justification any time she dipped below board. Judging by her knowledge of the Professor over the years, the wizard made his own rules, especially in situations he had control over. Just the way he acted as a teacher showed that. No other staff member at Hogwarts was as domineering over their students as he was. He very obviously practiced nepotism, favoring Slytherin students over all others…and showed his disdain for the other houses by taking points indiscriminately for the smallest most inconsequential reasons. He got away with it too. Not one rival head of house took the snarky wizard to task for it, and the Headmaster also turned a blind eye.

The Potions Master was probably domineering and controlling sexually as well. Hermione tried her best not to imagine what the wizard was like in an intimate situation. The way he rounded on her in the lab had to be an indication. He gave her no quarter, no space even to breathe as he said what he said. He had taken her over for those moments, totally in charge without even touching her. How much worse would he be if he did touch her? The witch imagined she would lose all sense of herself.

She felt a warmth inside as that terrible thought raced through her mind. Gods, what was wrong with her? There was nothing good about Severus Snape.

But that wasn’t true either. If not for the Potions Master, most likely she would be dead, killed by the Dark Lord, a casualty of the power struggle between Good and Evil. And that terrible scar bisecting his back, a sword stroke. He had that because of her. The wizard had almost sacrificed his life protect hers. This knowledge made the witch grateful, but Hermione knew the wizard didn’t give a damn about her gratefulness. It meant nothing to him.

The witch realized she hadn’t even said ‘thank you’ to the wizard. As if a simple ‘thank you’ would be sufficient. How could mere words show him her gratitude?

Hermione turned on to the main hall, greeted by quite a few doting male seventh years. She flung her hand up absently as she turned down the corridor that led to the staff entrance, the young men looking after her. No students were allowed in that corridor.

Hermione frowned. Many wizards had saved the lives of others during those evil times, and thank yous were all they received. The Potions Master said he had his own reasons for not handing her over. He did it on his own…she didn’t ask him to save her. Why should she feel she owed him her life? The wizard could have told her that just to make her feel obligated. He was that type.

Hermione sighed.

No, the Professor had only told her because she pressed him. He most likely would never have said a word about it if she hadn’t asked…and he went out of his way to try to tell her he didn’t do it for noble reasons, so he wasn’t trying to milk her emotions by declaring himself her hero…though in fact…he was.

Well, if she solved the problem of the Dark Mark and ended his random suffering, that would be reward enough, wouldn’t it? Besides, he didn’t ask her for a reward. What he had done was a selfless act. Somehow selfless and the Professor didn’t seem to mesh…but there it was.

Damn. She was thinking too much.

Hermione pushed the Professor out of her mind as best she could. He was an untouchable by choice, and if she had her choice…he wouldn’t be it. A kind, caring, gentle, romantic wizard was what she wanted…what every witch wanted. The Potions Master didn’t fit the bill in any way, shape or form.

So why was he lurking on the edge of her consciousness?

Hermione entered the Great Hall and her eyes fell directly on Severus. She felt a reaction too. Damn it. Damn him.

She quickly walked past him to the group of witches waiting for her with expectant faces. They wanted to know how the examination went with the wizard.

“Come sit, Hermione,” Pomona said, practically bursting with curiosity, patting the seat between her and Minerva.

Hermione said down, and all the witches leaned toward her.

“So, how did it go?” Minerva asked in a low voice.

“It was all right…except when I asked him to remove his robes, he only had boxers on underneath,” she replied. The witches all gasped, bringing their hands collectively to their breasts.

“That sounds like something he would do,” Minerva said disapprovingly, “Whatever did you do?”

”I examined him anyway,” Hermione replied. Then she ordered her meal as the witches discussed this.

“That took a lot of courage, Hermione,” Pomona said in a low voice, her eyes shifting toward the Potions Master. “Personally, I wouldn’t trust him alone with me, that’s for certain. Sybil…she told us things about him…intimate things.”

Hermione became instantly interested, even though it squicked her a bit thinking of the witch and wizard together in such a manner.

“Things like what?” Hermione asked.

“That he is an animal, an insatiable animal and his…his private parts are enormous. You know when a wizard has large private parts he wants sex all the time,” the Herbology teacher said, her eyes narrowed. “Being alone with him is probably very dangerous. His urges could take over…and then where would you be?”

“Probably in heaven,” Madam Hooch said, grinning. “I don’t care what any of you think. Severus is a sexy beast.”

The witches all tittered, scandalized but delighted at Rolanda’s naughtiness. All except Hermione.

“What did he look like? His body?” Sinistra asked, her green eyes curious.

“Lean. Muscular. Pale. He’s built like an athlete. I didn’t expect that. And he has terrible scars from Voldemort torturing him,” Hermione confided.

“Sounds yummy,” Madam Hooch said, glancing down the table at the wizard, who was eating a piece of bacon. “Lean. Hard. Battle-scarred. Damn, Sybil was one lucky witch to catch him out there like that.”

“Did he…did he try anything?” Pomona asked excitedly.

“No. No he didn’t,” Hermione replied, “He cooperated and left.”

She didn’t want to tell the witches about how he said she was naïve and cornered her against the counter.

“Anti-climatic,” Madam Hooch sniffed. “I was certain something exciting would happen, especially with the way you look now. He is a man after all and single.”

“Well, it didn’t, and I’m glad,” Hermione said, “He’s insufferable. I would have turned him down in a heartbeat if he had tried anything, and hexed him to boot.”

“Good for you,” Minerva said approvingly. “Those types of wizards are to be avoided. Severus hasn’t ever had a relationship as far as I know…you saw how he treated Sybil after tasting her wares. He’s just…cruel. A user.”

Most of the witches were of the opinion Sybil had used the Potions Master, but no one said this. They all just nodded…except Hermione, who cracked open her soft-boiled egg and started eating her breakfast as the witches talked among themselves.

Albus sat at the end of the table. Despite the witches speaking in low tones, he had heard everything, casting an amplification spell on himself so he wouldn’t miss the gossip. The old wizard had noticed how Hermione’s amber eyes shifted when she said the Potions Master hadn’t tried anything and his mouth quirked. The Headmaster remembered from when Hermione was a student that the witch’s eyes shifted unnaturally when she wasn’t being completely truthful.

He imagined things were going to get very interesting around Hogwarts.

And probably very soon.

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A/N: Oooh. Some very interesting trains of though here. Peter Pettigrew thinks Voldemort might have resurrected elsewhere because of the Phantom Summons. Severus has evidently formed a plan of action concerning the witch. Hermione is just all torn up about her reactions to the wizard. Madam Hooch is a hoot, and Minerva as disapproving as ever. I had to chuckle when Pomona said she wouldn’t trust Severus around her and talked about his ‘private parts’. Albus doesn't seem to miss a trick. A fun chapter to write. Please review.