An Unlikely Savior ~ (Edit) COMPLETED

Chapter 23 ~ Connecting

Hermione read through the ritual quietly, her brown eyes shifting from left to right as she absorbed the details and purposes of the ritual. Most of the ingredients involved in creating the potion were what one would expect. Herbs such as vitex, oatstraw, false unicorn and red clover blossom for fertility. Oyster elixir, powdered rhino horn, and rabbit spleen were some of the animal ingredients.

There were a couple of very rare ingredients as well, such as the feather of a Vialonisc, and the healing water of a Venislew or Water Phoenix.

A Vialonisc is a very rare creature that is half-lizard and half-bird and can only be attracted by mixing Jobberknoll feathers with dragon heartstrings during a full moon. They are very difficult to see and even more to catch because they can blend in perfectly with their surroundings.

The Venislew is like a phoenix because it is constantly reborn, except that when it dies, it turns into a puddle of water that has healing properties similar to phoenix tears. It is reborn when the water evaporates. The ingredient the Potions master used was water from the puddle of the expired creature.

Snape must have turned the wizarding world inside out to acquire those two precious and costly ingredients, unless he managed to harvest them himself, which was entirely possible.

Hermione continued reading.

Sperm had been added to the potion to magically promote instant ovulation if the virgin wasn’t ready to conceive. In addition, the best genes of the male were magically identified and at fertilization, only the sperm that contained the most beneficial genetic traits would be able to swim to the waiting ovum. Sperm that was weak or contained genetically deficient would be magically blocked. And lastly, the ovum would be especially receptive to penetration and fertilization by said sperm when it was released into the body in the conventional manner.

Unlike Eileen, Hermione was not the slightest bit disturbed by the addition of Snape’s sperm. Usually potions of this nature had to be personalized in some manner by utilizing the brewer’s bodily fluids. Blood, saliva, and urine were just a few samples of fluids used in creating potions and elixirs meant for a targeted purpose, so Snape’s use of his sperm in a fertility potion wasn’t that surprising. At least, from what Hermione remembered, the brew had a very pleasant taste. And that was all she remembered until the next day.

Hermione continued reading.

You will drink the Elixir, retain your intent, and depart, disrobing beneath the night sky, donning the softest skins, loincloth and beauteous headdress, becoming man and more than man, the Keeper of the Seed, Nature’s Consort and Voice of Creation.

The Virgin must be as innocent of mind as of body, unaware of the carnal purpose she is to serve, but open and receptive to the call of the Unknown.

One given the Elixir, she will be prepared by the Fey, anointed by their hands beneath the moon on the night the Mother bursts forth.

Her garments will be removed, her body kissed by moonlight and Delight will become her purpose and her heart become unfettered.

Neither sin nor shame shall touch her; she becomes the Original, the Firstborn, the Eve before the fruit, the Mother of All Life.

Garbed in gossamer, the life of the earth becomes her life, its fertile ground becomes her womb. Your voice will lead her to the Bower, lead her to the seed, seduced by the Horned One, tempted by the call of Creation.

Across the fields she comes like Spring to the Winter of your need, breaking the dormancy and you rise, a dark sun of the cold meadows, fire in your eyes.

Keep her there, O Cernunnos, with the timbre of your voice, the fleetness of your hoof. Beseech and entice, pursue and capture. Persuade her to the bower, the flowered womb of your desire, with sweetest words and boldest caresses.

Be dark. Be beautiful as the night sky. Be stone in silk. Be iron among the reeds.

Force her not or the spell will be broken. Force her not, or the hull will harden, and your seed will die.

The Harvest will fail.

Claim her with the lust of Yearning, with the fury of Victory. As Fire and Water sizzle, Earth and Air will bear fruit.

Hermione frowned slightly. She understood the directions, and that she couldn’t know why Snape had brought her to the forest. She only had to be receptive to whatever he had planned. But what was this about Fey and Bowers and fleet hooves?

When Hermione found out about Eileen, she believed Snape had just rendered her unconscious or incomprehensive with the potion, arbitrarily had his way with her and magically extracted her fertilized egg by some magical means. But it seemed he had performed an entire ritual. She turned the page, but there was nothing more to the ritual. It went on to another chapter.

She looked up at Snape.

”There’s nothing here about how you took—Eileen,” she said to Snape, who was still working on the Pensieve. “Nothing about the spell you used.”

He looked up at her soberly.

“It isn’t a common spell and the secret is kept closely guarded,” Snape informed her.

Hermione snorted.

“Obviously, not closely enough if you were able to get it,” Hermione said tersely.

Snape added another strand of memory to the Pensieve as he replied.

”I was able to translate it from one of my rarest handwritten tomes,” Snape replied. “It was in the Old Tongue.”

Hermione blinked at him. It was well known Snape had an extensive library of books that many wizards would kill to possess. She felt a twinge of envy, but pushed it down. She had other things to think about other than the wealth of ancient knowledge that was at the dark wizard’s fingertips.

”What you’ve read was how I prepared you and inseminated you according to ritual to insure a positive outcome,” Snape said, keeping it clinical. “You will see the actual extraction in my Pensieve. That should satisfy your need to know.”

”But it won’t satisfy the sense of violation I feel,” Hermione hissed at him.

”Because of me, Hermione, you are here to feel outrage. Don’t forget that,” Snape responded. “You live because of me, and although the Life Debt itself is paid, technically I am still your savior. Without me, there would be no outrage, no family to disrupt. There would be only a well-tended grave, a headstone with your name on it, and a coffin containing dust and bones beneath the hard earth.”

Hermione felt a lump in her throat at Snape’s description of what could have been. Yes, he had saved her, but he didn’t have to bring it up again—use it against her. It was unfair. And an effective argument.

”You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Hermione said to him softly.

”I let it go when you gave me Eileen. But it is you who should keep the remembrance, Hermione, especially when judging me so harshly,” he replied just as softly, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Without me, there would be no you.”

Wizard and witch stared at each other for several moments, then Snape slowly walked from behind the counter, approaching the witch, his eyes resting on her face. He stopped beside the recliner and gently took the book out of her hand, and set it on top of the counter. He then seemed to kneel at her side, and Hermione gasped as he slowly tilted the recliner back using a lever on the side of the chair, Hermione’s legs went up and she was stretched out before him. She looked up into his pale face, hardly able to breathe as he straightened and looked down at her. He was standing so close.

”What—what are you doing?” she managed to get out.

The wizard smirked almost imperceptibly, his eyes slowly moving over her. Hermione felt exposed, almost naked underneath those eyes. It was like he could see move than was visible, and it was unnerving, even though she still had her wand and could protect herself.

”I’m about to get into your head, Hermione Weasley,” he replied silkily.

The wizard turned and walked behind the counter and back into his office.

”My—head?” Hermione repeated softly.

After a minute, Snape returned, carrying a wooden chair, another Pensieve and a small towel. He set the chair at the head of the recliner, then put both the Pensieve and the towel on a small table next to the recliner and took a seat.

”Lean up,” he said softly.

”Why?” Hermione asked, her forehead furrowed as she looked upward at the wizard.

”I need to undo your hair,” he replied. “If I am to help you remember that night, you have to be relaxed and comfortable. The hair gathered at the base of your neck will soon become a distraction. So, lean forward, Hermione.”

Hermione hesitated for a moment. She could reach around and unpin her own hair, although it would require her to sit up fully, which would be awkward to do from this position. Slowly she leaned her head forward.

Snape slowly removed the pins in her hair, setting them on the table and freeing Hermione’s locks gently. He didn’t tug at all, but eased her hair free, combing through it with his pale fingers and arranging it around her shoulders.

”Lie back,” he breathed.

Hermione did as he asked.

”Are you comfortable?” he asked the witch, his eyes glittering down at her.

”Not really,” Hermione said. What he had done seemed far too intimate, although he had just taken out her hair. But no one did that other than Ron. That was probably the problem. It felt==wrong.

”Close your eyes. Breathe in on a four count, hold it for four counts and breathe out on an eight count,” the wizard advised her. “It will help you relax. I need you to relax. I must combine two magical skills in order to do this. Those of Legilimency and memory extraction. I will have to use my own mental strength to clarify the murky images I find in your mind then draw them out. If you are tense, your thoughts and memories won’t flow and I will be unable to give you what you want.”

Hermione blinked up at him.

”I will only retrieve the memories we didn’t share, those of your preparation while I waited for you. It makes no sense to waste magic and energy doubling the images. My memories are already available,” he added. “Now, close your eyes and do as I’ve instructed.”

Hermione closed her eyes and did her best to breathe as Snape said. But, she kept peeking up at him, to see what he was doing.

He was frowning at her.

”Hermione, what’s wrong? Why do you keeping peeking at me?” he asked him, irritation in his voice.

”It’s just you hovering over me the way you are. It’s unnerving,” she replied, opening her eyes fully.

”I’m sure you’ve had a man hover over you before. You have two children after all.”

”Three. I have three children.”

Snape studied her for a moment then rose from his chair and walked up one of the shop aisles. He collected something and came back, sitting down and placing an item on the small table. He took out his wand.

”Incendio,” he said softly, igniting the wick of a candle.

Hermione soon scented the soothing aroma of jasmine in the air. She breathed deeply.

”I remember you used to drench yourself in that scent,” Snape said, completely ruining the moment.

“Be quiet. I’m starting to relax,” Hermione said, her eyes closed as she breathed in the jasmine, counting as she did so. Soon a mellow, lethargic feeling enveloped her. Snape observed her carefully then leaned forward a little.

”You are now suitably relaxed, Hermione,” he said to her softly, his voice even more silken, quiet and almost sensual in timbre. Hermione sighed lightly in response.

“There will be some touching of your temples. My touch will be light, gentle, and not disturb your repose,” he said hypnotically. “You will remain peaceful and feel safe, protected.”

Hermione listened to him. His voice sounded farther away than it was, soothing but compelling, rich with purpose—with promise.

”I’m going to place a towel, then the Pensieve on your left shoulder,” Snape crooned, keeping his voice soft and hypnotic so the mesmerized witch didn’t come out of her repose.

Hermione felt the slight weight of the towel fall across her shoulder and upper left breast, followed by the marginally heavier weight of the Pensieve. Apparently, the towel was for spillage.

”Good,” Snape crooned, pointing his wand at her left temple and whirling it in a small clockwise circle as the fingertips of his right hand began to gently massage her right temple.

”Open up your mind, Hermione. Let me inside,” he breathed at her like a lover, his voice resonating, echoing through her. “You want me inside. Remember the flight and the landing. Remember the flask. I drank, then you drank. It was good, wasn’t it? Rich, thick, sweeter than milk and honey. It filled you with a warm glow. It filled you with—delight. So much delight, witch. Do you remember?”

”Yes. Delight,” Hermione breathed back at him. “I feel so strange, the moon—the moon is so large—and the wind is calling me—“

”Legilimens,” Snape hissed, slipping inside.

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A/N: It took all day, but I finished the chapter. Thanks for reading. ***