A Looping of the Scales ~ COMPLETED

Chapter 47 ~ The Hunt

Hermione wasn’t sure that she wanted to set a precedent of having sex as a reward and told Snape so the next night.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Severus,” she told him apologetically. “I think the satisfaction of winning should be enough for either of us. Even though your spells are attractive, I would hate to lose and then have to be subjected to—“

”Subjected?” Snape responded with a scowl. “I’m not trying to ‘subject’ you to anything. It would be good for both of us, Hermione. You know that.”

Hermione colored slightly but pressed her point home.

”I don’t doubt it, but still, it would be sex under duress, Severus. I don’t want that. The idea of it doesn’t feel right. My body versus your spells. What happens between us should happen because we both want it and its something we feel inside. It’s not—not something to be won as a prize. I can’t do that. I won’t. I’m sorry if you don’t understand, but that’s my final decision.”

Hermione began to read one of her books as Snape just stared at her. Suddenly, he pulled a piece of parchment out of the cubby hole, picked up a pencil and began to write quickly. Hermione’s brown eyes shifted toward the parchment, but he had his arm curled around it so it wasn’t visible. Then he folded the paper and stood up.

”I’m going flying,” he said softly, placing the folded paper beside her and letting himself out of his quarters. Hermione sighed after him, then picked up the parchment and unfolded it. She looked at it, and shook her head slowly

“Duplicus,” she breathed, studying the wand motions he had written down.

He’d given her the duplication spell.

”Oh, Severus,” she sighed.

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Severus flew toward the full moon as fast as he could, his powerful wings lifting him higher and higher, his breath curling about him in the night air. He raced through the cloud banks as if pursued, feeling thwarted and frustrated. The emotion was even more pronounced in his animal form, the instinct to mate thrumming through his body. He let out a forlorn cry to the moon as if it could answer him and tell him what to do to attract the young woman he desired. Severus Snape the wizard might not actually consider himself to be anything more to Hermione than a lover, but his Gryffin form recognized her and only her as “mate.”

This was one of the facets of Snape’s Animagus form that Hermione hadn’t taken into consideration in her initial outlining of the transformation. If Snape could fly like a gryffin, there had to be other aspects of the animal’s nature that also manifested, such as monogamy. Gryffins mated for life and never took on another mate, even after its death. By agreeing to become lovers, and consummating that union, Hermione Granger and Severus Snape were—married by nature. No lack of ceremony or certificate could change that, and neither of them knew.

Yet.

The fever in the gryffin continued to boil as it streaked through the sky, flying over a large open area illuminated by moonlight. The creature looked down and saw movement, several large and small shapes slowly moving across the landscape and something in its brain made it dip and fly downward, coasting silently, not using its wings.

Below, a herd of hinds and fawns moved across a lush heathland, grazing on sweet heather and grasses under the light of the moon. Standing alertly on an outcrop of rocks, keeping watch, was a beautiful reddish brown buck. Its throat and underbelly were paler than its coat, and a set of long, impressive antlers swept backwards, topped by many points. It was a heavy buck, nearly four hundred pounds.

It stood there alertly, its nose scenting the breeze that meandered across the rolling countryside, the beautiful wet eyes scanning the land around it. Sudden a large shadow flitted across the well lit ground and the buck leapt to the moors with a thump, startling the herd before it began to run, leading them away from the threatening shadow.

The scent of fear and thundering of hooves set the gryffin’s hunting instinct aflame and Snape landed, racing after the animals, its hard black eyes focused not on the hinds and fawns, oh no, but the beautiful stag leading them away. There was something else in the gryffin, something that targeted that handsome beast, something more than was natural between predator and prey.

The gryffin raced through the herd, the deer parting and swerving aside as it passed through their midst, intently focused on the graceful animal leaping and bounding before it. It leapt, but the stag zigzagged and it missed the kill, soaring past, then turning and bounding after it again, head low and wings folded.

The rest of the herd stood panting under the moonlight, watching the life and death dance before them as the stag fled for its life. Presently, the stag realized the creature pursuing it was no longer behind it. The stag slowly stopped running and turned, scenting the air for the beast. It was as if it had disappeared. But the stag was cautious as it began to trot back toward its herd.

It never heard the gryffin coming as it swooped from above, talons and claws digging into flesh, the beak tearing at the back of the graceful throat, blood geysering as the stag thrashed in agony, the antlers raking the feathered chest before the lethargy of blood loss fell upon it and all pain disappeared.

The gryffin stood over its kill, its pure white feathers and golden beak darkly stained in the moonlight. The herd stood some distance away, milling about in confusion as the scent of blood and death reached them and their patriarch moved no more. The gryffin let out a cry towards the leaderless herd, and it bolted in the other direction. No matter. They would survive, but now—now they would search the skies as well as the heathlands for enemies.

The gryffin looked down at its first kill, elated, the beak slightly watering as the scent of still warm blood and flesh permeated the night. Carefully choosing where to start, it began to feed.

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Snape didn’t return, and Hermione spent quite a bit of time reading and making notations from a few of his books, and when it was close to eleven, she packed up and exited his quarters, heading for Gryffindor tower. She had just started up the marble stairwell when the door opened and in walked Severus. Hermione stopped on the stairs and stared at him.

His face was streaked with blood and he carried something rather large tucked under his arm. It was covered with coarse fabric. She walked back down the stairs as he crossed the hall, his dark eyes sober as she approached him. He smelled as if he’d been in a slaughterhouse.

”Severus? What—what happened to you? I smell blood,” Hermione said, before seeing his blood streaked face and gasping.

”Have you been hurt?” she asked him.

”No. I’ve been hunting,” he replied.

”Hunting? Oh my gods. As a gryffin?”

Snape nodded.

”You—you ate something? Raw?”

Snape nodded again and Hermione looked at the covered thing under his arm. She pointed at it.

”What is that?” she asked him.

Snape’s eyes narrowed.

”A trophy for my wall,” he replied, pulling back the fabric and showing her the antlered head of the slaughtered stag.

”It’s a stag,” she breathed. “Oh, Severus.”

”Not the head I would have liked, but it will do, symbolically at least. Now, good night, Hermione,” he said, flipping the fabric back over the dismembered head and heading for the dungeon area. Hermione watched as he walked down into the darkness and stood there for a moment.

Had she caused him to kill by denying him?

She turned and slowly walked up the stairs. No, it hadn’t been because of her. That was a stag’s head and he said it wasn’t the one he would have preferred. He had targeted it because it was a stag, like James Potter’s Animagus form. It might have been in his gryffin nature to hunt, but there had to be malice as well for him to have saved the head. There was still a lot of unrequited anger in Severus Snape, anger and hatred that would take time to mellow if not be completely removed from his psyche.

Hermione returned to her rooms with mixed emotions. She had never heard of an Animagus actually hunting in its animal form, but then again, Sirius Black had survived on rats in his dog form. She always felt that had been from necessity, since he had nothing else to eat while in hiding. He’d been forced to do it. But Snape had access to a kitchen and plenty of food. He didn’t have to hunt.

There was something deliciously dangerous about a wizard that immersed himself in his animal form as much as Snape had done. Hermione felt a bit disturbed that she found this aspect of the dark wizard so—so appealing. It was also rather creepy that he wished he had James Potter’s head to mount on his wall and had taken a true stag’s head to fill the spot.

Still, she was sure he hadn’t planned to go out and kill something. Well, relatively sure. She was going to have to talk to him about it, to document the kill as part of her project. She’d find out more then.

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Lavender spent much of her time during breakfast, lunch and dinner just watching Susan Bones. She was very friendly, talking and laughing with her friends. She seemed to be well-liked, and didn’t even act as if she knew she was fat. It didn’t help that Ron was constantly looking over at her with puppy-dog eyes and she completely ignored him. Who did she think she was? If Ron were making those kind of eyes at Lavender, she’d acknowledge him immediately.

He’d actually asked her out, and she was making him wait. Why was he waiting? What was so special about her? It couldn’t be because he wanted a shag. He knew that Lavender was more that willing to accommodate him, and she was skinnier than Susan, and therefore felt herself to be much more attractive.

By suppertime, almost everyone in Hogwarts with the exception of Hermione and Snape knew that Ronald Weasley had asked out Susan Bones.

A couple of students made the connection immediately, but most of them were in Hufflepuff.

”She cooks. Ron eats. It’s really that simple,” one Hufflepuff boy said to another. “It’s a good match, really. They have something in common.”

Of course, there were a few idiots who couldn’t see it.

”I should send Weasley a harpoon. It’s clear he likes whale-hunting,” Draco Malfoy sneered as his housemates cracked up.

“I thought only Eskimos chewed blubber,” Blaise added, which caused a new round of guffaws.

Draco and Blaise were lucky Ron didn’t hear their comments. Heads might have ended up turned backwards. Ron knew a couple of really good dark spells too, but would only use them when he felt the situation warranted it. This situation would have warranted it.

If Susan did hear any of the snide comments, she didn’t act as if she did. In fact, she didn’t act any different at all. A few of her friends asked her if the rumor was true, and she admitted Ron did ask her out.

”Why didn’t you say yes, Susan?” they all wanted to know.

”I—I wanted to think about it for a week,” she replied, covering up the real reason and that was that she thought Ron was just overreacting to a good shag.

Still, they wanted more details and Susan simply told them he’d asked her out after tasting her food and it wasn’t anything serious.

When Ginny found out Ron had asked Susan out and the conditions under which it happened, she just shook her head.

”Well, you have to admit she’s a good sort. Most witches would have let you ride it out, and not that way,” Ginny said to him, smirking a little. “I always knew your greediness would get you in trouble, Ron.”

”Yeah? Well, this is the kind of trouble I can deal with,” he responded dreamily.

But Ginny liked Susan. She was a very good duelist and hardworking. When they had been in Dumbledore’s Army together, she was a slow starter, but once she caught on, she was solid. Just solid. She never gave up. Ron could do a lot worse. Ginny didn’t have the skinny girl syndrome because of her mum, who had been as slender as she was in school and had plumped up over the years. Besides, Susan was a far better choice than—ugh—Lavender Brown. Even better than, and she hated to admit this to herself, Hermione. Hermione was her friend, but she and Ron were just too different. They tried to work it out, but it just wasn’t there for them. Ron needed a nurturer. He was the kind of wizard that responded to that, and appreciated it. He needed attention. It was just how he was. Susan would probably give him that as she stuffed him full of food.

After doing a bit of baking in the kitchens, Susan left the castle to go for her evening walk before retiring for the night. She did this at least three times a week to stay healthy and fit. And the witch could walk at a good pace, a pace that would tire out a lot of people less heavy than she was. Lavender found this out first hand when she tried to follow her but was soon left far behind. She returned to the castle, still angry about Ron’s attraction to the witch.

She’d have to throw a wand in the gears somehow. Ron was meant to be her wizard. It was written in the stars.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. ***