Vain Wisdom All and False Philosophy

Author’s Notes: All hail melusin.

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Twenty - Think Only What Concerns Thee and Thy Being

Everything to Harry had been a blur: his classes, his conversations with his friends, even sleeping.

He was having trouble remembering exactly what he’d been doing two hours ago, because it didn’t feel like hours, only moments.

Harry just had far too many thoughts clamoring in his mind. He was constantly analyzing his dreams and conversations with Dumbledore while everything he was physically doing felt mechanical.

Like this essay.

He knew he was writing it. He could close his eyes and still hear the tip of his quill scratching across the parchment.

History of Magic had always been such a horrid subject for him. Before, without Hermione’s notes, he would never have gained a fraction of the understanding that was required to pass.

He knew he was writing it, and he knew what he was writing was accurate. Harry didn’t even attempt to question how or why. There was no reason.

It just was.

Merely reading a few general details from his book placed everything on the parchment: Sir Horatius Balder, The Knights Templar, Dualism….

And now he had a four foot essay.

Harry’s left ear suddenly spasmed. Dropping his quill, his eyes clenched as he groaned under his breath.

Harry had come to his room for some peace and quiet to do his work, knowing that everyone else was gathered in the common room… when he heard the door slowly open.

The squeaking of the hinges hesitantly paused before creaking even louder as the door was completely pushed open.

“Ah, hell,” Harry groaned again. He fell back against his bed, dragging a hand over his eyes.

The bed-curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t see who had come in… but there was only one person who would have had the gall to sneak up the boys’ dormitory stairs and lack complete confidence upon entering his room.

Harry listened as his bed-curtains were pulled aside while the scent of floral perfume wafted toward him.

“Don’t look so excited to see me,” Lavender said scornfully.

“Good, ‘cause I’m not happy to see you.”

“I can tell.”

Harry quickly hauled himself to sit up. Glaring at her, he didn't know what to make of this girl. Sure, she was attractive, and Harry honestly believed that Lavender cared for him… until he reminded himself of what type of person she was by the way she treated everybody else.

“Look, Lavender, I really need to get this essay done. If you’re looking for a quick shag….”

“A what?”

“What else do you want to call… what we did?” Harry snapped.

Lavender glowered reproachfully as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Call it whatever the hell you want, just make sure you get my name right next time.”

“Next time?” Harry scoffed. “I really don’t think that it was a good idea to begin with….”

“I didn’t come in here to fuck you, Harry!”

Harry’s brows rose skeptically.

Lavender angrily opened her mouth, but then quickly shut it. Glancing at the floor, her lower lip unwillingly protruded as she whispered, “I… I’m pregnant.”

*** *** ***

“Rise, Severus.”

Snape forced himself to steady his shaky knees, smoothly pushing himself away from the floor without the aid of his hands.

He was the only Death Eater in the dusty, old parlor room. His nerves instinctively tensed at this discovery. The Dark Lord made it a point to only see his followers alone when he had assignments to give… or punishments for not completing them.

Severus was already up to his neck in orders, which only left….

“How have things been… developing at Hogwarts?” the creature hissed, intentionally forcing a casual tone.

“Fairly… tolerably, Master.” Severus may have been blessed with the gift of rising, but he knew he should keep his eyes fixed to the floor.

“And things with Sirius Black?”

Two red eyes behind thin slits glared malevolently at the Potions master. Even though Severus was not looking into them, he had enough memories to accurately imagine the sight. Something told Severus that the Dark Lord already knew the answer to his own question.

Here it is then.

Severus inhaled steadily, but his mouth went dry. His body tensed at this odd reaction. He was usually very adept in controlling such things. “Not as well as we both would like, Master.”

“I know… or Black would have been to see me by now. You haven’t given him the book yet, have you?”

“I….”

“Haven’t even developed a plan on how to arouse Black’s desire to read it. Far too preoccupied with the tempting flesh of your young students?”

The Dark Lord did not know it, but every vein in Severus’ skull throbbed, rushing his blood straight to his heart.

Control.

Keeping a lid on his emotions and fears was the one thing Severus had ever truly had an absolute grasp on. Or, he at least liked to believe he did. Severus’ expression and thoughts revealed nothing to the Dark Lord, but that didn’t prevent his body from reacting under his voluminous robes.

“I apologize, Master. I fear that I do not follow….”

An invisible force smacked Severus across the face. He fell to the floor and instinctively froze, fighting the temptation to touch his throbbing cheekbone.

“WRONG CHOICE OF WORDS!”

Severus inhaled, but he wasn’t asked a question so his response died at the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Severus… you DO follow. You may be too pathetic a creature to complete the simplest tasks I ask of you… but you do, AND WILL ALWAYS, FOLLOW!”

“Yes, Master,” Severus responded meekly.

The Dark Lord took an abrupt step away from his threatening stance over Snape. He remained silent as he treaded around the room, knowing that each unsure moment was torture to the man kneeling on the floorboards. “I have spoken to Wormtail.”

Perfect.

“He has informed me that you have been having an overnight visitor… a student from Hogwarts. He did not recognize her.”

Severus silently exhaled in relief.

“… but he has been around the castle long enough to recognize its students. What do you have to say about this?”

Snape kept his eyes glued to the hem of the Dark Lords robes. “He has gone mad with starvation.”

“Why are you starving him, Severus?” The Dark Lord did not sound angry in the least. If anything, he appeared somewhat amused and disappointed that it hadn’t been his idea.

“Because I can.”

The creature’s pale, white lips rose into a twisted smile. Placing a cold, scaly hand on the Potions master’s chin, the Dark Lord glided his thumb along the base of Snape’s jaw. “Prove to me that you are not deceiving me… that you are not shagging a student.”

Severus remained entirely emotionless but dutifully raised his hazed eyes. The Dark Lord inspected all of the thoughts and memories that Severus allowed him to scrutinize.

Hermione may have been the first that he had protected from Pettigrew; she was one of many that Pettigrew had happened upon in his bed, so this bout of Occlumency was fairly easy.

He presented the Dark Lord with an array of whores and slags for his perverted merriment.

And to further prove to the Dark Lord that he was not distracted by underdeveloped flesh, none of the women he displayed possessed any of the youth and vitality …that my Hermione has.

His eyes widened.

“Very well, Severus,” the Dark Lord purred. “I am satisfied that you do not have any distractions at Hogwarts that are keeping you from giving me all of your devotion and attention. But the next time I speak to you… Black had better have spoken to me first.”

“Of course, Master.”

As he was dismissed that evening, Severus was overcome by a suffocating uneasiness. Which, of course, would be completely understandable. He had a very short time frame to convince Black to read the book before his next summons. But Severus’ feverish thoughts were completely removed from the mangy mutt.

My Hermione.

The same phrase had repeated in his mind, but not as a statement—it was a question.

By the time Severus arrived in his dungeon chambers later that night, he had repetitively gone over every reason why he would give the Gryffindor such an endearment. Severus had always scoffed at such useless sentimentality within any form of human interaction. Not even the women he slept with were gifted with compliments during copulation.

But it doesn’t have to be an endearment, does it?

Merely saying her name forced a wave of thoughts and images to flood his senses: the sound of her breath panting in his ear, the sight of her breasts rising toward him as her back arched off his mattress, the feel of her bum against his thighs as he slammed into her.

“I promise never to reject you.”

Severus groaned as her voice unwillingly entered his head… again.

His eyes suddenly narrowed as he gulped a tumbler of whisky.

No, it definitely didn’t have to be an endearment, at all. And he wasn’t deluding himself in the least. She was his Hermione… and no one else’s. And if Severus had his way, which when attempted, he always did, she would always belong to him.

It wasn’t sentimental prattle, he told himself, merely an accurate term for a possession.

*** *** ***

Sirius was very surprised that the Headmaster had finally allowed him a meeting. Since the beginning of the year, Sirius had been repeatedly requesting to speak to the old man, but all of his efforts had been denied.

But now, sitting in the seat normally reserved for students, perched in front of the Headmaster’s desk, Sirius desperately wanted to leave. Yet, he found himself repeating the same question for the third time, hoping to hear a different answer.

“NO, you cannot leave the castle,” Dumbledore said reproachfully.

The fact that Albus refused to meet his eye when he spoke to him in such a scolding manner infuriated Sirius.

Sirius growled under his breath. Furiously thrusting himself out of his chair, he leaned over the desk.

“You can’t keep me here, old man.” The challenge was very evident in Sirius’ voice.

Dumbledore coolly looked back at him.

“Just look at you,” Sirius chided further. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you croaked any minute.”

“That was an order, Sirius,” Dumbledore stated casually.

Another demand with a dismissive glance at anywhere but him.

“If listening to you means doing such nonsense, then maybe I don’t want to be in your little Order anymore.”

Dumbledore shook his head in frustration. Slowly removing his spectacles, he pinched the bridge between his brows. “You sound no different than an adolescent boy… no different than you did twenty years ago. Foolish, selfish and pointlessly headstrong. Why must you be so difficult?”

Dumbledore’s question was to himself, not Sirius, and they both knew it.

“Why can’t you just be honest with me, for once?” Sirius countered. “What’s the real reason you seem hell bent on keeping me locked up at any chance you get?”

“It is far too dangerous for you to be away from the safety of the castle, or the Order.”

“Dangerous?” Sirius laughed indignantly. “I know how to fucking take care of myself!”

“You don’t know anything!” Dumbledore barked, pushing himself out of his chair. “You thought you knew what you were doing… leaving Grimmauld Place… and it brought you death at the Department of Mysteries! And now… you don’t even know what you are… which is also a result of your stupid, selfish choices. Even in death, you can’t do what’s right!”

Sirius paled. Hand in his pocket, his fist clenched around the watch in his palm. His hysterical eyes darted around the office, stopping here and there at heavy metal objects within his reach. Shaking away the absurd temptation of attacking the Headmaster, Sirius exhaled deeply in the hopes of grasping a clearer thought.

“What I do know is that my life has been one miserable hell after another… because of you! Shall we finally lay everything on the table, Albus?”

Dumbledore calmly turned his face away as he sat back down. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about, Sirius.”

“Twelve years!” Sirius screeched his familiar mantra, slamming his fist on the table. “You left me in Azkaban for twelve years! You knew I was innocent. You’re an Occlumens for fuck’s sake. You interrogated me! You knew I never committed those murders—”

“Sirius—”

“Admit it! I don’t know what sick game you were playing, but from the moment I left Hogwarts, I felt your disgust… your distrust. Because of YOUR advice, James and Lily made Pettigrew their Secret Keeper instead of me. Admit it! Admit that you wished I’d never escaped Azkaban to begin with!”

“YES, I WISHED IT!”

Sirius found himself violently pushed back, either by the wandless magic of Dumbledore’s rage or his own shock, forcing himself to fall clumsily in his chair.

“Look at you!” Dumbledore continued. “Insanity has run in your family for generations! It’s sucked the life out of your cousin Bellatrix, just as it consumes you now. Since you were a boy, it has been very clear that you are a nasty, unstable creature, with lesser sense than a dog!”

Sirius inhaled sharply, but it was a few moments before he would remember to breathe.

Like all of the students who had once idolized and looked up to Albus Dumbledore, Sirius’ image of him had been shattered. But he had discarded those broken shards of this man a very long time ago. Now, hearing what the Headmaster truly thought of him, Sirius’ aerated indignation that had been based solely on suspicions, turned to pure abhorrence and malice.

Dumbledore did not feel guilty about this confession but made an effort to calm his voice. “You do not, and cannot know what hell you would be thrust into without my guidance and protection.”

“Stop!” Sirius snarled, hands clenching against the armrests of his chair. “Don’t try to convince me that you have my best interests at heart. Make your demands upon me and be done with it! Your reasons behind your tyranny mean shite.”

“Very well. Go back to your office and your rooms. Complete your lessons plans and teach my students. And yes, you are NEVER to leave the castle unless you are escorted by a member of the Order. Even when you leave in rebellion, you will still be followed by a member of the Order.”

Sirius didn’t bother looking at the old man as he said all this. He was already halfway to the door before Albus had finished.

After slamming it with all his might, he pounded down the spiral staircase while screaming a stream of expletives.

*** *** ***

Severus had been putting off this assignment much longer than he should have. The moment he had stolen that Dark book from Borgin and Burkes, he should have immediately devised a plan that would result in Sirius finally reading the damned thing.

Except, Severus had been far too curious for his own good. Truthfully, he felt absolutely no desire in obtaining any type of power through a text with the word ‘Horcruxes’ written along its spine.

He just wanted to be very certain exactly what type of power he was willingly handing over to that dog.

It might as well have been written in Gobbledegook for all he’d got from it.

Severus’ nightmares had become fairly unbearable anyway, so he didn’t mind parting with his late night reading.

He sighed as he pushed open Sirius’ office door.

Just drop the book and go, he told himself. That was all it would take. Something told Severus that Black wouldn’t have the common sense to question a foreign book suddenly appearing out of the blue. Especially if it was attached to an anonymous note that read, ‘Dumbledore does not wish you to read such things.’

Severus was aware of Dumbledore’s obvious scorn and irritation at Sirius. And Severus was certain that Sirius was aware of it as well.

There was no other way. Severus knew that he could not just hand the book over to Black.

How obvious would that be?

Regardless of the fact that this was what the Dark Lord wanted, and regardless of the fact that this was also what Sirius wanted, whether he knew it or not, Sirius would only question the situation for however long it would take him to recognize Severus.

Sirius would roll his eyes disgustingly as Severus pushed a book into his hand with the word ‘help’ exiting his mouth in the process.

Severus did not want to ‘help’ Sirius in the least. And Sirius would be suspicious of any type of assistance from Severus.

With very, very good reason, of course.

No, Severus’ idea was much more practical. Break into the mutt’s office, leave the damn thing on his desk, and hopefully no one will notice him coming or going.

There. Problem solved.

“What are you doing in here?” a feminine voice asked behind him.

Severus cursed under his breath as he rolled his eyes. Of course… it couldn’t be that easy, could it?

“Nothing,” Severus said emotionlessly. With the book already tucked under the mess of papers and lesson plans on Black’s desk, Severus smoothly turned towards Hermione. He marched toward her, grasped her by the hand and pulled her through the door.

When it was closed behind them, Hermione paused. “Did Dumbledore send you in there?”

“What have I told you about asking ridiculous questions?” Severus snarled as he brushed passed her.

“And what have I told you about refusing to give me answers?” she immediately countered, trailing behind him.

Severus whirled around. He graced her with an indulgent and patronizing smirk.

She fidgeted before asking, “Does that… follow the orders Dumbledore’s placed upon you?”

His eyes narrowed. “What orders?”

“To protect Sirius from the hands of Vol—”

Severus’ upper lip curled as he took a threatening step toward her.

“… the Dark Lord!” she corrected loudly, raising her hands defensively. “Please tell me… that whatever you were doing in there… it wouldn’t please… him.”

Nothing ever truly pleased him.

“Tell me.”

“Are you asking me to tell you the truth, or what you want to hear, Hermione?”

“The truth, of course. All I ever want from you is the truth.”

Sending a quick glance over his shoulder towards the classroom door, Severus closed the space that separated them. He slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. He brushed his index finger down her cheek, along her jaw, and across her throat.

Hermione earnestly wondered if he was addicted to the sensation of her pulse quickening.

Severus’ voice spoke very low. “I can understand why you would have… questions about finding me alone in Sirius’ office. But I also have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“Why have I also found you… alone… in Black’s office?”

Hermione opened her mouth but obviously hesitated.

“Yes?” His hand closed around her throat during his delicate probing of her flesh. He wasn’t hurting her. In fact, his fingers were barely touching her, but the situation could change instantly, and it all depended on her answer.

“I followed you,” she said softly.

Severus gazed down at her emotionlessly. She assumed her answer was sufficient when he finally lowered his hand to pull her closer.

“Would it please… him?” Hermione asked again.

Severus silkily murmured in her ear. “May I see you… late… tonight?”

“I—what? Um, of course.”

Severus pressed his cool lips to her forehead so she couldn’t see him smile.

“No, Hermione… it wouldn’t.”

*** *** ***

Another raid.

It was another day, Severus thought, so why not another raid?

His own sarcasm was very evident in his head.

Severus honestly couldn’t understand how his brother Death Eaters constantly found the energy to make the most of these situations.

He yawned as the sound of Lucius’ pretentious drawl echoed in the background. Severus’ idea of entertainment typically involved a bed.

“I found something in your wardrobe,” Lucius whispered viciously. Even draped in typical Death Eater robes, the pompous wizard intentionally moved primly, in the hopes that his social class would be obvious to all. His every moment showed clear disgust towards the surroundings that were evidently beneath him.

Severus couldn’t help smirking every time he noticed this. His reactions to the Muggle homes each and every time were exactly the same.

Shaking these thoughts from his head, Severus continued his stiff and looming stance against the daisy-papered wall as he easily ignored the cries and sniffling from off to the side. Typically, the longer he went without speaking, the more imaginative and hysterical his victims became.

“W-what is it?” the Muggle man gasped. He didn’t know where to look, but the long, white-blond hair under that horrific mask kept grabbing his attention.

“Filth!” Lucius pulled something from within the inside of his robes, flinging it at the old man’s feet.

The Muggle flinched in reaction. The pistol fell against the floor with a heavy metallic thud, spinning by the barrel. He jumped back again as if expecting it to go off from the violence of the fall.

“So… it is loaded?” Lucius questioned triumphantly.

“Yes,” the Muggle wailed. “Why do you ask? What do you want?”

The Muggle quickly fell to the floor, an invisible fist punching him in the stomach.

“Pick up your gun,” Lucius snarled.

The smirk dancing on the edges of Severus’ lips instantly pulled away. Regardless of the fact that Severus was already standing bone still, he froze at those words.

“NOW!” Lucius snarled.

The Muggle fumbled for his pistol.

Severus pinched himself under his robes. But it was pointless, he was certain he was awake.

For the first time in years, Severus turned away. He didn’t know if it was Lucius’ words or the Muggles standing before him, but he feared that he was going mad. Part of him desired to Silencio the line of children. Their hysterical cries and gasps for air rang in the back of his mind. It would certainly be a sound that he would continue hearing once they were all dead.

“Get on with it,” Severus snarled at Lucius.

“I am,” the blond wizard replied smugly. Lucius eyed the pistol in the Muggle’s hand before turning toward the row of victims. Locating one that least resembled the Muggle man, Lucius’ cold hands closed around her throat, yanking her away from the wall. Continuing with the fluid movement, he thrust his arm toward the Muggle, forcing the girl to fall by his feet.

Expecting her to scream… to wail, bile coated Severus tongue when she had gone silent the moment Lucius touched her.

“I’m in the mood to be very generous, Muggle. I noticed you have daughters, three to be exact by the number of little beds in that frilly room. But there are seven children standing against that wall. So here is your chance.”

Lucius flicked his wand at the Muggle. Horrified, the man watched as the arm holding the pistol raised of its own accord.

“Oh, God… please, no!” the Muggle cried.

“Kill her,” Lucius continued, “in exchange for them.”

Severus’ eyes had unfocused, and he possessed no desire to clear his vision. He felt an odd vibration on the wall behind him, then a slow dragging sound followed by a limp thud.

One of them must have fainted.

“Well?” Lucius asked, his sickeningly polite voice dripping with hatred.

The Muggle couldn’t gain a steady control on his sobs well enough to answer.

“Very well,” Lucius sighed exaggeratedly. He quickly turned back toward the wall, yanking another child with his vicious grasp.

A flash of light from Lucius’ wand forced Severus to close his eyes again. A throaty and wet gurgle filled the room. It was a sound that Severus knew all too well, so he didn’t need to see it happen.

There were now two bodies lying on the floor, but only one was breathing.

The Muggle man was now on his knees, a series of pleas spilling from his mouth. Some of them were to the black-cloaked men standing in his hallway, some were to his Maker.

“I see,” Lucius said matter-of-factly. “Shall I give you another demonstration that I am completely serious?”

“NO! Oh, gods… okay… okay….”

“I am waiting.”

The Muggle clenched his eyes and slowly raised his shaking arm.

The blast from the Muggle weapon startled Severus much more than he would have liked to acknowledge. But if someone had asked him if the scene was horribly grotesque, he would never have given an answer.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t admit, not even to himself, that he had slightly turned his head and clenched his eyes in the same fashion as the Muggle who had pulled the trigger.

*** *** ***

Her bedroom door creaked open.

Hermione was fast asleep, but she still jolted in alarm.

She froze, unsure if she should hide under the covers or continuing gawking at the shadow in her doorway.

Her eyes finally comprehended who she was looking at. Turning over onto her back, Hermione’s body relaxed into her mattress.

Instead of demanding how he was able to enter her room, Hermione gazed worriedly before saying, “Severus? What is it? What’s wrong?”

But she immediately closed her mouth after she said the words. To any other indifferent and pitiless eye in the school, a billowing black cloak on Severus Snape would always be just that. Hermione, on the other hand, instantly noticed the difference, and what he was wearing now were not the robes he taught in.

She pulled back the bedclothes. “Come here,” she called to him.

Severus elegantly crossed the room in silence, removing his cloak and shoes in the process before entering her bed.

A flutter of nerves danced in Hermione’s stomach when Severus threw the covers over the both of them. She instinctively drew back, but he gently reached out and pulled her against him, sliding his hand down the length of her body as he kissed her soundly.

A strangled whimper escaped her throat when he deepened the kiss. Effectively pushing her to lie flat on her back, he moved himself over her.

Sliding his hands up her thighs, Severus lifted her nightgown past her hips. Stifling a growl, he lowered his face to her exposed stomach. Grating his teeth against her skin, he hooked both fingers into her knickers.

By the time Hermione realized he had removed them, he was already brushing up against her and pushing into her at the same time.

Her body arched toward him.

He slowly thrusted into her twice more before pausing. Breathing heavily, Severus leaned against his elbows as he silently looked down at her.

Hermione hungrily listened to his panting breaths. Lifting her arms off his shoulders, she slid her hands through his hair… and smiled.

Severus released a deep breath in response, lowering his head onto her breasts.

She gathered that he wanted silence, so Hermione adjusted her legs until she was comfortable without suggestively moving herself against him. Lowering her chin to look down at the top of his head, Hermione frowned at his expression.

His eyes were open and blankly staring ahead.

She softly slid her fingers through his lank hair. Hermione marveled at the feel of it and at the feel of the man lying on top of her.

“What did you do?” she asked softly.

When he didn’t immediately respond, Hermione did not feel inclined to press further nor was she hurt at being ignored.

Severus inhaled slightly, and the breath paused in this chest.

“Nothing,” Severus finally whispered.

Hermione scratched the base of his neck, lowering her chin to press her lips against him.

“Then it sounds like you didn’t do anything wrong.”

More silence.

She was so relaxed, Hermione had forgotten that she had asked him a question. His strangled voice spoke against her breast.

“I’m starting to think that ‘nothing’… can be the worse type of ‘wrong’.”

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Author’s Notes: Melusin has had her hands very full and was still able to beta this very quickly.

-The Death Eater raid scene was borrowed from a Holocaust/WWII movie. In the movie, a different type of father (priest) was given a similar choice, but for the life of me I can’t remember what the movie was called.

-I recently reread a couple of my favorite SSHG stories: Sonata of the Spellbound by A N Llewellyn and Taking Over Me by Snapesforte. Since these stories moved me, enough to consider attempting to write my own story, I feel like I must give credit to them. These are my favorite stories for a reason; it wasn’t intentional but I feel like the characters created in those two stories vastly inspired the ones I created.

-Sonata of the Spellbound is at http://ashwinder.sycophanthex.com/viewstory.php?sid=10221 and Taking Over Me has been pulled from all archives .

-Chapter title taken from John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book viii. Line 163.

-Thank you for the wonderful reviews, Lucy, TenderQuaintWitch, and girl_with_wings! Sorry for the short response but I'm using my school's computers and can't be on her long!

-Next up: Pansy can't stand the distance she has had with Remus, and takes things into her own hands... under the watchful eyes of Hermione.