I, Snape

Chapter 17 – Viva Las Vegas

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.


Dumbledore rev’ed the Vespa scooter and looked behind him. “Are you ready, Althea?”

“Never been more so, my love!” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“It’s going to be pretty interesting. Basically in overdrive we will be hopping from Apparition point to Apparition point, heading up over Greenland and then down the Canadian coast. From there we can choose to just take our time or go into overdrive again.”

“Wouldn’t a portkey be faster?”

“Well, yes, but where’s the fun in that? This way we could take lunch in Quebec or New York City, your choice.”

Althea thought for a moment. “Could we stop in New York? I’d love to do a spot of shopping on Fifth Avenue, oooh maybe at Bloomies. I don’t have a wedding dress, you know.”

“Your wish is my command.” Dumbledore lowered his goggles and they were off.

&&&

Hermione watched as Snape passed by her into his room. He’d offered her the shower first. Well, he was becoming politer. Still Hermione was worried about him. He seemed so very sad, sadder than she’d seen him before. And Hermione felt very alone in this. She knew she loved him, but there were so many buts. He’d always been volatile but now he was quite unstable, seeming to fall apart before her eyes. She knew she was over her head. If only she could use the library… Wait a minute, she thought, just maybe.

Hermione went into the hallway, “Please, I’m sorry to be asking for things so often,” she called out to the stones surrounding her, “but Professor Snape’s been really upset. Could you send me a book on…” On what? thought Hermione. Professors with mid-life crisises, suicidal potions masters. “Could you send me a book to help him? He’s really sad.”

Hermione waited. Then she started to hear something flying. She looked up and caught the book just in time. It was a trade paperback and it looked brand new. “Feeling Sad, Bad or Mad? A handbook for help and hope” by Tyranius Falco. She looked at the back cover and saw a wizard’s photo of a balding black haired man with a goatee and glowing hazel eyes.

“How are you?” the picture asked.

“Very well, thank you, I think,” replied Hermione.

“Well, then why do you need this book?” The man raised his eyebrows.

“My friend, well, he’s not so much a friend, he’s sort of my…”

“Paramour?”

“Yes, that’s right. We’ve been lovers.”

“And now he’s lovesick for you.”

“No. He’s been trying to kill himself.”

“Oh, dear.” The man rubbed his chin. “I think you’d better take him to St. Mungo’s then.”

Hermione shook her head. She rather marveled that this picture was so articulate. Most books’ back covers weren’t half so helpful. “He wouldn’t go.”

“Hmph. Well, perhaps you’d better give me some background. If I had such a lovely girl interested in me, I would never try to kill myself.”

“Well, nothing personal, but that sounds rather shallow. What are your qualifications?”

“Ah, quite right, can’t tell a book from its cover. Very well then. I’m a, or considering I might actually be dead by now, was a Mediwizard at St. Mungos and a licensed Jungian therapist.”

“But Jung was a Muggle.”

“Yes, but when I read of his theories of alchemy I just had to go to Zurich and learn all I could. Muggle or no, he was a remarkable man. And you mustn’t be so prejudiced about Muggles. Most of their ideas are quite amazing. I suppose because they lack magic they need to be particularly innovative.”

“I’m not prejudiced. I’m Muggleborn myself! However, my friend he seems to be having a lot of problems with my being who I am.”

“Dump him! Lot’s of other fish in the sea!”

“But then he might kill himself.”

“Not your problem!” He gave a stubborn look and crossed his arms.

“But that’s why I’m reading you. You aren’t being very helpful at all for a self-help book.” Hermione felt quite peeved.

“Well, actually I’m giving you very good advice. You really don’t need to tie yourself down to a depressed bigot.”

“Just tell me,” said Hermione through gritted teeth, “how I can help him.”

“All right, if that’s what you really want to do. You must promise me not to be a co-dependent about all this. His problems are his problems. If you promise, I will give you some more advice.”

“I promise.” Hermione was wondering if this so-called Mediwizard also studied television chat shows.

“Good. Now tell me everything that’s been going on.”

“Well, he saved my life during the battle with Voldemort.” There was a gasp from the book, but Hermione continued. “But he wound up in Azkaban because he bore the Dark Mark, even though he’d been spying for our side. I testified in front of the Wizengamot and got him released. But then his mother was trying to marry him off, so I set him up with someone, but he found out and I had to turn him into a black cat.”

“Hold it right there!” the Mediwizard’s eyes were crossed and he looked dizzy. “Is there much more of this?”

“Well, no. He gave me detention and we wound up here all alone and he sent me away, but I came back just in time to save him from taking poison. And then we became lovers, but he thought I was someone else.” Hermione took another breath. “Yet, after all he didn’t seem to care and we continued, but then he told me how much he hated Muggles and Muggleborn so I walked out of the Hog’s Head Inn on him and he jumped in the lake even though he couldn’t swim. And now he’s hiding in his room n.” n.”

“Hmmm. Well, so that’s two suicide attempts in how many,” Hermione held up two fingers, “two days? . W. Was in Azkaban… Hmmm. Hmmm.” The picture was hmming furiously. “And he’s taken you on as his lover. Yes. I have it!”

“You do?”

“Projection of the other. He hates Muggles and yet he takes on a Muggleborn lover. He’s trying to reclaim abandoned aspects of his self. Yes. Do you do Tarot cards?”

“No. I quit divination.” Hermione was beginning to really regret asking for the book.

“Pity. Well, don’t worry. Could be a matter of Post Traumatic Stress triggering a spiritual transformation and rebirth. He needs to change and change is painful-- Painful enough to want to abort the whole process by killing himself. Yet in you he’s found the discarded aspects of his self and he is drawn to that in a life affirming process. Hmmm.” He stroked his goatee with one hand while twirling his hair in the fingers of his other.

“Give him lots of chocolate, since he’s been in contact with dementors, hot baths to relax him, sex (only if mutually desired)” he smirked and continued. “And listen to him. Get him to talk.”

“About what?” Hermione was baffled by the psycho jargon.

“About anything. You really don’t even need to listen, he just needs to get it all out on the table. Oh, no doubt most of it will be total drivel. But Wizards do love to have a sympathetic ear.”

“Last night he insulted me and I walked out.”

“Goodness, if I walked out on all the patients who ever insulted me, I wouldn’t have muf a f a practice.”

“So, it’s all right?”

“Well, no. Don’t be a doormat-- be aware that depression is anger turned inwards. And keep your wand handy at all times.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me!” Hermione shook her head scornfully.

“Well, no, not if you turn him into a cat!” He chuckled. “Still be vigilant! We could use more witches like you! Ever thought of a career as a Mediwitch?”

“My application was turned down.” Hermione kept the sulk out of her voice.

“Well, my dear. You come see me when this little crisis is over. If I’m still alive and working there, just contact me. It’s all about who you know in the Wizarding world. But we’ll just keep it our little secret for now.”

“Thank you. But your real self won’t know me.”

“Not to worry, dear child. Just tell him that I sent you.” The Mediwizard laid his finger to the side of his nose and winked. “Now if there is anything more?”

“No, no. But I think I’ll keep you nearby, just in case.”

“Capital idea! Well, if you’ll excuse me then.” And the Mediwizard disappeared from the frame of the picture.

“Bath.” Hermione said aloud. “I need a bath.” She walked over to their shared bathroom and opened the door. “Oh, wouldn’t you know. Thank you!” Hermione looked up and all around in complete and sheer astonishment. She wasn’t sure if it was a Genius Loci of the castle who had brought down the prefects bath or if it were just some spell. But whatever it was, it was very attentive. Extremely pleased, she went to fetch her professor.

&&&

They made it to the Knight Plane with a few minutes to spare. Snape had been grumpy and muttering to himself the whole time. Hermione tried not to look worried and to listen to what he said, however, it seemed like he wasn’t actually going to say anything directly to her. She found a chair and lay in it. The Knight Plane reminded her of the Knight Bus in many ways. It was located at Terminal 93 and 7/8th. It was an ancient 747-style jet, however there were neither seat belts nor, in fact, normal seats. The attendant didn’t wear a normal uniform (he looked like a cast-off from a marching band) and the seats were all dentist’s chairs randomly scattered about the belly of the vehicle. She was resigned to Professor Snape wanting to be left alone so she got out her book and started quietly talking to her new friend.

“So how is it going? And may I ask your name?” The picture smiled widely flashing a golden tooth.

“It’s Hermione. And well, I did what you recommended and it didn’t help much. After our bath, he headed back to his room and destroyed the place.”

“Hermione, so your parents were fond of the bard then?” Falco nodded. “Any idea why he did that to his room?”

“He’d asked me my plans for the summer and I told him that I’d probably be seeing Harry and Ron.”

“Aha. You made him jealous!”

“Well, I didn’t mean to.”

“No, that’s good. Very good. He is caring about something other than just him. And he took it out on his personal possessions, not you. Excellent. You didn’t need to hex him?”

“No. He also seemed upset about my not getting a job in the Wizarding world. I didn’t mention your offer, just as you requested.”

“Good Girl. Yes, I think these are major improvements in his condition. What is he doing now?”

“He’s muttering to himself. I think he said something about the plane’s going to crash and we are all going to die. He’s holding onto the dentist’s chair and his knuckles are turning white. You’re right. He must be better. For someone who wanted to kill himself just yesterday, he now seems quite determined to live.”

“There you go. The miracles of modern psychiatry at work! I suggest you read Chapter 18. It talks all about the shadow self and using tea leaves instead of inkblots. Best chapter in the whole book! I’ll oingoing now. Oh wait, just out of curiosity, can you give me a peek at your man?”

Hermione held the book up at eye level and let Falco take a look. She returned the book to her lap. The Mediwizard seemed quite put out.

“Hermione, I seriously question your judgment here. That has to be one of the most terrifyingly ugly men I’ve ever seen. I’m sure we could do much better for you! Someone without the flying phobia as well.”

“I’m sorry Dr. Falco,” Hermione paused, trying to choose her words carefully, “he means a great deal to me. I can’t explain it.”

Falco’s expression softened. “First loves are often the hardest. You just come see me later. I’m sure my original will be quite interested in all of this.”

Hermione thanked the doctor and went back to reading Chapter 18. Soon there was an announcement. “This is Captain Krashenburn of Flight 207. We will be making stops at Brisbane, Madrid, Las Vegas and St. Petersberg. Remember there is to be no hexing of the captain during flight. That is all.”

“What would you be ‘aving Sir?” Snape looked up at the attendant mid-mutter and waved him on.”

“Would you like some gingernuts, Miss?” Hermione stared at him and asked. “Aren’t you the conductor on the Knight Bus?”

“Oh, no. That’s Stan Shunpike, me cousin. My name’s Dan.” He tipped his cap to her. “Would you like some Iron Brew? Or maybe some Dandelion and Burdock? We got it fresh.” Hermione shook her head and returned to her book.

Take off was most disconcerting. She felt her stomach lurch dangerously and she swore Snape screamed. Her ears popped and then there was nothing. No sense of movement and no sound of an engine. For a moment she was terrified that they would, indeed, simply drop out of the sky!

She scrambled over to Snape. If she was going to die, it would be in his arms, even if all he could do was mutter. She crawled on top of him and held on tightly. He kissed her forehead. “It will be all right,” he murmured, “it’s always like this.”

Hermione pried open an eye. “Always? You mean we aren’t going to die?”

“I can’t swear to that, Miss Granger.” Hermione looked around her. Though there was about 100 dentist’s chairs spread all around, they were the only passengers.

“You know, we are all alone here.” She slowly smiled. She’d always wanted to be part of the Mile High Club.

“Miss Granger, whatever do you have in mind?”

“Well, if we were to die, there is something I’d like to do first.” Hermione slipped her hand down between them.

“Please, someone will come in.” He sounded peeved.

“Not if Dan is anything like his cousin, Stan.” Hermione felt the professor begin to get hard under her fingers. He fluttered his eyes closed.

“We’ll get caught.” Snape complained. Hermione giggled.

“Well, if we are going to die… What do we care?” She kissed him and slipped him her tongue. He moaned and lifted his hips to press against her.

Soon they were grinding into each other, though they were still fully clothed. Hermione jumped off of him long enough to shed her knickers from beneath her skirt and robes. She pulled up his robes and quickly exposed his hardened cock. She climbed back on him and adjusted her clothing around the top of her thighs. His maleness angled up under her cunny and she deftly slid it in.

“Ahhh.” Snape tried to keep quiet but between the fear that the old egg crate they were flying in would either crash (or shake apart should they hit some turbulence) and the dread that they would be discovered, he was barely in control of his faculties. Ah, yes, where was the Snape of yesteryear, when he could lie with a bold face to the Dark Lord himself without breaking a sweat?

He tried to jerk his hips up to meet her, but the angle of the chair was such that he couldn’t do it without risking himself an injury. Thus it was up to Hermione to move herself up and down on him. She leaned over him, her curls tickling his nose. She kissed him, flicking her tongue in and out of his mouth in rhythm to her hip movements.

She rode him hard and he put up his hands on her bouncing tits. Even though her robes covered her breasts, his memory supplied how they would look. He kept his eyes closed, happy just to touch them.

Just then the PA system came on, “Landing in ten minutes at our first destination of Brisbane.” There was a sudden lurking of the plane and Hermione’s inner muscles clamped down on Snape. He yelled and came, jerking violently into her, triggering her own intense orgasm. The plane shuddered.

She threw her body down on his, holding on for dear life as he slipped out of her. “I’m glad we did that,” she whispered into her ear.

“So am I,” gasped Snape as he felt the air being sucked from his lungs by the sudden change in air pressure.

A few witches and wizards got on at Brisbane only to get off at Madrid, and Hermione wondered what logic was used in deciding the flight plan.

“So what were you muttering under your breath all that time,” Hermione was beginning to get used to the strange form of transport they were using. She had moved her chair right next to his and they were holding hands.

“Levitation incantation. I am certain it was the only thing holding us up,” admitted Snape.

“But you’re better now.”

He sneered, “You aren’t using sex to tranquilize me are you?”

“Now who is being silly? I enjoy it too much to use it that way. Besides, I was worried too.”

“I keep wondering what he is planning.” Snape’s brows knitted in a frown.

“You don’t trust him?” Hermione was enjoying Snape’s company more and more. He wasn’t sneering at her half as much as he used to and he was beginning to show something like an appreciation for her presence. Well, she supposed, maybe it was like Dr. Falco had said. He was finding something he needed from her. Still it was strange to be so used. She wished he could simply love her, but that was probably expecting too much from a man on the verge of insanity.

They finally arrived at their destination and disembarked to a small airport terminal away from the main one. The heat was incredible. Hermione felt it beating down on her as soon as she left the plane. She looked at Snape who was dressed in his usual black robes.

“Know any good cooling spells?” she asked.

“Welcome to Hades. No, I’ve never had need of one.”

Fortunately, there were port keys to their hotel available and they were quickly whisked to there, which thankfully and mercifully, was wonderfully equipped with air conditioning. They both breathed easier. He took her hand as they walked over to the check in.

“Hey, It’s Professor Severus Snape.” He dropped her hand like it was a live coal and whirled to see who it was.

“Blake Bladderwort?” The Wizard was tall with long, curly dark brown hair and a boyish grin. He hit Snape hard on the back.

“Blow up any cauldrons lately? My Gods, it all takes me back to Hogwart’s. Sev, Sevvie, Severitus. I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d wound up as Potion’s Professor there. Talk about irony. I’d have no problem believing you in the DADA slot, though. But really a teacher, I’d think you’d hate it.”

Snape glared at him. “Long time no see, Bladderwort.” He turned to move towards the desk.

“And who’s this gorgeous young veela you have there.” Bladderwort took Hermione’s hand and kissed it.

“Unhand her.” Snape had out his wand.

“Calm down, Sev. I’m just being friendly. What’s wrong with you? We’re all here for a bit of fun and relaxation. In fact, as soon as I saw you were on the list, I put you down on our panel of speakers.”

Hermione saw the sweat beading on Snape’s forehead and thought she’d intervene. “Thank you Mr. Bladderwort. The professor isn’t used to the heat and wasn’t dressed for it. I’m sure he’ll be better once we get to our rooms.”

Bladderwort grinned, “Please do tell me you’re not his nurse?”

“I’m his associate.”

“ Tha That’s what they are calling it nowadays. Well, if you should feel the need to get out and see a little of our town, just give me a holler. I’d be glad to show you some American hospitality. He bowed. “See you at the panel. You’ll get the information that you need at the desk.”

Once they were in their rooms, Hermione sat down and looked at the professor.

“Can you tell me what that was about?”

“Blake Bladderwort – Ravenclaw, one year ahead of me. And my (cough, cough) for a couple of years.”

“What that?”

“Potion’s tutor. I didn’t quite get the knack of potions until my sixth year.”

Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So you actually blew up a cauldron or two yourself?”

Snape was shrugging out of his clothes and heading for the bath. “If that’s all, I feel the need to freshen up—alone.”

Hermione was left by herself in the room, while the shower ran. Darn she should really have tried to get him to talk about it. Maybe if they took another bath together? There was a nice sized tub in there.

Snape came out with a towel wrapped around him. He shot Hermione a glance.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he carefully didn’t look at her and began drying his long black hair, “I was just wondering, though. It’s none of my concern, of course.”

“Ask me.”

“Just how sexually experienced are you?”

Hermione caught her breath. “No, it’s not your concern. It’s rather cheeky, in fact, but I’ll tell you. I’ve been with three before you.”

“Was one of them Harry or Ron?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’re going hostelling with them, I was just curious.” He kept his face neutral.

Hermione felt her temper flare, but reminded herself of what Falco had said. Being insulted was a part of it all, but don’t be a doormat.

She lifted her chin proudly, “My first lover was Blaise. I did it on a dare. My second was Greg, who was really nice but it just didn’t work out. And Harry was an accident.”

“Accident?”

“It was the night before he was to face Voldemort, he was upset and things got out of hand. Well, he didn’t want to die a virgin!” Her Hermione’s face reddened as Snape snorted.

“That’s the oldest line in the book!”

“And also the truth! He was a mess, he’s been messed up for years. Anyone would be after all he’s been through. Not that I’d expect you to understand!” She flounced into the bathroom slamming the door. Suddenly she was very grateful that they had separate rooms, because she was sleeping by herself tonight.

Her tears mingled with drops of water from the shower. She scrubbed herself hard until she was pink all over. She needed a break from him, a little respite time. She didn’t understand what Dumbledore wanted, but she happened to like potions and this was an Expo, wasn’t it? She left the shower, got dressed in her own room and then walked out her door. She left a note for Snape, but didn’t exactly care if he found it or not.

A/N: I’m going to try to keep to my current posting schedule, but I’ve joined Nanowrimo.org (National Novel Writing Month), so things may be a bit hectic!

A special thanks to my reviewers-- We are coming into the home stretch now, I really, really appreciate your support now more than ever (yeah, you all know how neurotic I get at the end of a story): JustMe, Talene, RyokoAlpha, Rilla, Maddy, Andrian, Lily, Binda and Elizabeth.