#7 ~ The Ghost and Lady Snape

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR (except Marcus Delaluci). All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
*******************************

Chapter 5 ~ The Dragon Reaches Out and Almost Loses a Claw


The presence floated through the familiar walls and halls of Hogwarts. He was hidden, undetected even by other ghosts. They were like him, but unlike him. They had no powers. They were mere shades of the people they used to be, stuck in limbo, unable to effect any change in the mortal world. He sensed another spirit, troublesome, more solid, more like him than the ghosts, but stupid, noisy, a player of games. He inspired no terror only irritation. The presence knew the name…Peeves.

“It is much the same, this place. But different. The power is weaker than when I was. My power will be great again. She will give me power. She is a powerful witch, that mudblood. I would have never known if she had not released me, absorbed me. I thought her blood was pure. But first I must taste her, waken her fears, then she will give me blood, tainted blood as in the old time.”

I sense something else. Something old. An enemy. But all my enemies are beyond. How can I sense his blood? I must find him. I will know him by his blood when I find him. I will destroy him again.

She sleeps now. She must waken and I will come to her. I will claim her like he has claimed her, before him, the one whose soul is merged. He is dark still, maybe his blood can strengthen me. He is Slytherin, and Slytherin is power. Their fear will strengthen me.”

The presence drifted through the Great Hall, where the students and staff were eating supper. He passed through a mudblood girl, and she vomited. He laughed and continued on, testing his ability to connect with the physical. He reached both hands into the chest of a mudblood boy and squeezed his lungs, but could not hold on for long. The boy coughed uncontrollably, trying to catch his breath, others pounding his back and offering him water. The presence let go, and the boy drew a long shuddering breath, then pushed away his food.

He drifted along the staff table, studying the wizards and witches sitting there. They were weak creatures compared to the ones of old, all except one. He was like an ancient. Light radiated from him, and the presence shied away. The twinkling blue eyes seemed to follow him though he knew he could not be seen. Best to stay away from that one. He would make him weak.

She, the mudblood had that light, but the darkness she absorbed had dimmed it. She was safe, he could draw on her, make her darker until he was ready for the blood. Ah, the sweet, metallic blood so full of power. Something akin to lust stirred within him, the old feeling of the illicit at hand. It was good to be free, unbound again in a weaker, less aware world. It was good to touch flesh again and steal away its warmth. He drifted out of the Great Hall and toward Slytherin house, perhaps to reminisce.

**************************

Madame Pomfrey shook Severus’ shoulder gently, holding a steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable soup in her other hand.

“Severus, wake up dear. You must eat something,” she said gently.

Severus’ head was slumped against his chest, his hair covering most of his face. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and he still had his wife’s hand firmly in his. His dark eyes fluttered open, and shifted back and forth, taking in his surroundings before he moved. This was something he had learned to do long ago, something that had saved his life many times. He realized he was in the infirmary, and his eyes snapped to his wife. Her color was better now, her lips no longer blue. She breathed deeper now, her breasts rising and falling rhythmically.

Pomfrey held the soup in front of him.

“Take this Severus. She wouldn’t want you not to eat,” she said softly. It was the right thing to say. Severus reluctantly let go of Hermione’s hand and dipped out some soup and ate it. It was the same kind of soup Hermione had fed him after curing him of the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse. This was no accident. Pomfrey had a pretty good hold on the art of psychological manipulation. She watched him as he ate a little more soup.

“Good news, Severus. She has shown a marked improvement. Whatever happened to her appears to have been temporary. Her body temperature is almost normal, and she is in a deep sleep now. She may wake soon,” Pomfrey said.

Severus was so relieved he actually smiled, shocking Madam Pomfrey who had never seen so much as a grin from the snarky Potions Master in the two decades she had known him. Merlin’s beard, he even had a dimple! Who would have thought it?

“You really should smile more often, Severus,” she said, smiling at the Potions Master.

A scowl immediately replaced the smile. She chuckled.

“Maybe you should go down to your rooms and get some rest. I will tell you when she wakes,” Pomfrey suggested. Severus’ scowl grew darker.

“When my wife awakes I will be right here to greet her,” he declared, while thinking, “just before I throttle her for scaring me half to death.”

Pomfrey looked at him, knowing it was hopeless.

“Well, let me bring you a blanket at least. It’s been rather chilly in here tonight,” she said, and exited the room, leaving him alone with Hermione.

He sat there in silence for several minutes, finishing the soup. Pomfrey returned with a blanket, took the bowl away from Severus, and fussily spread the blanket over him. He endured this, just to get her to leave faster. When she had pulled the privacy curtain and left, saying she had to see Albus for a minute, Severus leaned over his wife and gently kissed her lips. They were warm. He took her hand again.

“Hey, Snape,” a familiar and unwelcome voice called.

Severus didn’t answer. He had no words for Mr. Marcus Delaluci.

“Snape!” Marcus called again, sitting up in his bed and peering at the drawn curtain. Madame Pomfrey had removed the patches from his eyes. He telescoped them, and could see the shape of the Potions Master sitting in the chair.

“Snape, I know you hear me. I need to talk to you. It’s important. It’s about your wife,” he said, grinning a little as he imagined what Severus’ reaction would be. Marcus was really a bastard. Even though Snape had beaten the stuffing out of him, he still had no hesitation at goading him. To be honest, Marcus thought Severus’ win was a fluke, because of his arm getting broken by the chair. He’d take another go at Severus anytime the dark wizard felt man enough.

“Mr. Delaluci, unless you would like to take up permanent residence in this infirmary, I suggest you keep my wife’s name out of your mouth,” Severus responded coolly, though inwardly he was already seething. How dare Marcus even attempt to speak to him concerning Hermione, considering the man had wanted to brutalize her sexually, and made a good go of it before Severus saved her.

Marcus tried another tact. “What’s your wife been up to lately, Snape? Down there in her lab?”

Severus started a bit. That was a question he himself wanted answered. He knew she was working on the book, but not exactly what his wife had done and the results of it.

“What my wife does and does not do, is none of your concern, Mr. Delaluci. You are treading on dangerous ground,” Severus growled back.

“It’s my concern when what she does affects my well-being, Snape,” Marcus retorted, I have a feeling that whatever she was doing down there led to my little episode at lunch today.”

Severus fell silent. He thought of the pulse of dark forces he had felt. He found Hermione unconscious shortly afterwards. A connection could be possible.

“There’s something wrong with your wife, Snape, and I don’t mean psychologically,” Marcus said, unable to resist taking a little dig at Hermione’s streak of masochism at Severus’ expense, \"I felt it when she came in here, and I felt it a few minutes after you put her to bed. And what I felt was painful. I can take pain, but I don’t like it. Whatever is wrong with her has to be fixed. If it’s doing this to me, I can only imagine what it will do to her.”

Not that Marcus particularly cared what would happen to Hermione. He thought a little pain would be good for her…she’d probably like it, the twisted little chit. But he knew what he said would get to Severus, who loved her.

“If there is indeed anything ‘wrong’ with my wife, sir, “ Severus said evenly, “I assure you, it will be fixed, and it will have nothing to do with you. Now if you please, I would like to end this conversation before we come to blows. Your current state of convalescence makes no difference to me. I can beat you to death in a bed as well as any place else.”

Marcus bristled at this bold statement of challenge. He could almost smell the testosterone in the air. But this was something bigger than their cocks. Marcus knew he was going to have to work with Snape to solve this problem. Going at it like trolls would not help the situations. He took a deep calming breath. Seemed those stupid meditation sessions to help his self-control were working after all.

“All right, Snape. Your wife’s been dabbling in some powerful shit. I’m pretty sure you’ll find out for yourself that some very dark magic is at work here, and it isn’t mindless either. It has a purpose, a reason for being. I can feel when whatever this thing is, is moving around. You’re going to need me, Snape. And when you admit it, you know where my office is.”

Marcus fell silent. He had said enough. Fuck Snape. Let him find out for himself and come crawling for help. In the meantime, Marcus would just have to deal with the pain. Without access to Hermione, there was nothing else he could do.

Severus was very uncomfortable with what Marcus had said. He felt that the wizard was being sincere, despite his crass manner, and that is what disturbed him. He never cared for Marcus, even before he had designs on Hermione. One cursed man can always recognize another.

The man was Eradicator. He was soulless, worse than a deatheater. Any man who was capable of doing what Marcus had done for the Ministry, was not to be trusted. He could dine with a person, sleep in their home, accept their kindnesses, befriend them, then cut their throats without as much as raising an eyebrow. Like he’d falsely befriended Hermione, all the while planning on ravishing her.

But then again, there might be something to what he said, if he was suffering pain. Severus had felt the magic too. Marcus’ help in this matter would actually be self-serving, and that was more in character with the man. Made him more trustworthy as far as stopping whatever was happening was concerned. Hermione really needed to come around so he could find out what was going on. He wanted to read that book too; it might be able to give him answers.

Severus looked at his wife one more time, then nestled beneath the covers, trying to get as comfortable as he could, then closed his eyes and waited.

*****************************
A/N: Well, Marcus put it out there. That presence is something else, ain’t it. I’ve been working on the contents of the journal while writing this story. Some interesting entries including the first recorded use of the word “mudblood”. Please review. Thanks.