Snape Redux

Snape Redux

By April Grey

Chapter Seven – Halleluiah, It’s Raining Wizards

It all belongs to Rowling, except for the parts you don’t recognize.

Snape got his sleeping roll down from where he’d magically suspended it in the hayloft, away from bugs and other vermin that might have wanted to explore it during the day. He was exhausted again, but felt too wound up to sleep.

“Accio whiskey,” the bottle gently floated down from the loft into his hand. Snape spread out the thin sleeping roll underneath him and rested his back against a bale of hay.

He undid the seal on the bottle of cheap Muggle liquor and twisted opened the cap.

“To Miss Granger, Freak Extraordinaire,” he toasted the empty barn. Unbidden the image of Lily came to him. Damn, what ghosts had the girl stirred up in him? He hadn’t thought of Lily, well, he’d removed as much of her as he ever could now that he was without a Pensieve.

He let the burning liquid slide down his throat. He chuckled--old Pomfrey would have a heart attack. Normally she clucked over him like a mother hen. ‘Oh Severus,’ she’d scold at the yearly teacher’s Christmas get together, ‘Don’t drink too much. You must watch for your liver.’ He eyed the bottle. How much dare he drink? Since the return of the Dark Lord two years ago, he hadn’t had more that a taste, just in case he was summoned. He looked at the bottle longingly and thought, wouldn’t it just be wonderful to get totally arse-over-elbow? He sighed. With the money he had remaining, he could get shagged as well, if he went for someone less pricey than Vanessa. Blazes, prostitutes twice in a week? He was turning into a satyr! No, save it for food.

Well, he didn’t miss Narcissa, though after a few drinks she no doubt would look good too.

His mind settled back to Vanessa’s room, but this time there was a four-poster bed it in. He was on the bed, tied down and naked. Totally helpless. She’d be wearing, hmmm, not the usual caftan or Indian sari that she usually wore. No, something like a red corset, with those long hanging down thingies to hold up black silk stockings. And she’d have on no knickers.

He was hard. He took another sip and got undressed.

That afternoon, he’d purchased a shaving kit with comb and mirror, along with a bedroll, a nightgown (x-tra large which he suspected was actually for a Muggle woman even though it was plain white cotton) and a change of clothing. He didn’t like to sleep in the altogether, just in case there was an emergency. And he didn’t like sleeping in his clothes, either. If this was it, his last few days on this god-forsaken, miserable, little planet, he wanted a bit of comfort.

He did another spell that he hoped would ward off the vermin from his sleeping roll that night. They were so determined to explore and conquer anything new to their world that he wondered which spells the house elves used. It was obvious from his past few days that almost every spell he knew to repel the little buggers (pardon the pun) was faulty.

He got into the bedroll and was ready for sleep. He said, “Nox” and the few candles and oil lamp went out, leaving the barn in darkness. He thought back to where he was in his little fantasy. Him on the bed tied up. Vanessa, wait Vanessa with bushy hair? No, that wasn’t right. Oh no, he’d confused her with Granger. Well, that was sick. A student hadn’t aroused him since he was in his early twenties, before Dumbledore had given him a word to the wise about that sort of thing.

Still Granger looked good in a corset. Would her bush be as bushy as her hair? He laughed as in his mind she leaned over the dresser and presented herself to him. He liked the view of her buttocks and vagina. She wiggled it enticingly. Such a lovely fanny—he could imagine doing all sorts of things to her.

He lifted his nightshirt and one hand cradled and caressed his balls as the other began to pull and slide up and down on his prick. ‘That’s right Miss Granger,’ he emphasized the word ‘Miss.’ ‘Probably a bloody virgin aren’t you? Kissing your schoolboys in your sleep. Never been with a man.’ Snape’s breath was getting short as he watched Hermione spread her arse cheeks for him. He imagined her then coming over to him as he was tied to the bed.

‘Yes, sir, what can I do for you, sir?’ She husked the words sensually. Her lips were heavily painted in deep, crimson red. ‘You’ve been very, very bad. What awful punishment do you want from me?’

‘I want you to—to—‘

Snape felt very close to climax as the girl in his imagination licked her lips and then bent down over his cock to tease him. Her lips pursed as she blew warm air on his erection. In real life his thumb moved over the slick with moisture tip and his hips moved rapidly back and forth.

‘Suck me, please’ he thought. And then the real Snape groaned and came.

He didn’t cry this time. He hardly ever cried when he wanked off. Though he felt like it. No, it was too pathetic, to cry and not have anyone to hold you. He liked being held. But, by the Gods, him masturbating over Miss Granger, his overachieving student, what next? He was becoming a dirty, old Wizard. How perverted! What filth would come next? Fantasies about dried up Madam Pincer? Hooch? Well, he did used to fantasize about Hooch when he was thirteen. She was quite a bit of all right then.

He fell asleep, hoping all harpies would leave his dreams alone.


Hermione Apparated back to her room at Grimmauld Place. She got undressed and into bed. But she couldn’t sleep. Severus Snape and Lily Evans! Obviously they’d broken up long before the scene she witnessed in the infirmary but the juxtaposition was so awful. Snape had always hated Harry and she had put it down to Harry’s resemblance to his father. But it went so much deeper than that. No doubt Snape had eagerly anticipated Voldemort killing Harry and his dad. His two rivals out of the picture, he’d be free to go and—what? Make up with Lily? Convince her that he would protect her from the Death Eaters?

No. He had the Dark Mark by then. There was no going back from that. He had to be barking mad to think that the removal of James and Harry would have made her do anything but to hate him more! Perhaps he didn’t care what she thought. What if he simply loved her from afar?

Hermione shook her head. This was Snape! Greasy Git Extraordinaire, as Ron would put it. There probably wasn’t a decent bone in his body! Hermione paused in her thoughts. It was becoming harder to catalogue Snape. He was so different now from when he was at Hogwarts. Still on edge, he was quieter, more subdued—beaten down. But off his rocker he was, and he had obviously been a bit mad for quite a while. After all, he’d tried to commit suicide. That was a definite sign of mental instability.

She felt sorry for him. Everything had gone wrong. His loss of Lily, his becoming a Death Eater, and now, a renegade from both sides. And he’d tried so valiantly to put a good face on it. And, she thought, maybe Lily had loved him once. Well, at least someone had loved him.

She sighed, and thought about Ron. They’d be doing Occlumency lessons together tomorrow. And she absolutely had to arrange a meeting with Viktor! His note sounded like he was very depressed about his current situation. She loved him so much for his intelligence and dry humor. She was so lucky to have a good friend like him. They’d been corresponding for years now. And with him in England, she’d actually get to chat with him face to face.

With these happy warm thoughts, Hermione fell asleep.


The next day, Hermione had lunch at The Burrow and, true to her promise, Ginny was back to her usual self. After lunch, the four of them played Quidditch and laughed at Harry who was hot-dogging around with his broom. Hermione suspected that he was showing off for Ginny.

Before they knew it, Molly had come out to tell them that it was time for Harry, Ron and Hermione to start their Occlumency lesson. Ginny was upset that Molly refused to give permission for her to also learn; however Molly was unyielding in that it was both her and Mr. Weasley’s decision. Hermione suspected that it was a poor choice based on a head in the sand attitude, but she wasn’t going to question it. Ginny and Molly headed off to go grocery shopping together.


“Now, now, Miss Granger. So many questions, why you’ve sent my head a spinning.”

Harry and Ron looked at each other behind McTavish’s back. Ron mouthed ‘wanker’ to Harry.

Hermione did her best to keep a straight face. Indeed Travis McTavish, the Ministry’s new expert in Legilimency and Occlumency, didn’t instill a great deal of faith. True, he had boyish good looks, with regular features, a head of thick, auburn hair and a neatly trimmed blond mustache. And Hermione found that his hazel eyes under sandy colored brows were warm and appealing. But there was something a bit too much about him.

She wasn’t sure if it was the rather alarming gap in his front two teeth that was revealed whenever he smiled, which he did a lot of, or whether it was the hideously bright plaid of his kilt, bowtie and cap! Hermione had seen questionable color choices made by Wizards in the past, but this particular blending of orange, chartreuse and magenta in his tartan was rather upsetting to both the eye and stomach. Also, he was wearing one of the furriest bright orange sporrans she’d every seen. It looked like it was made out of kneazle!

One would have expected at least a slight Scottish brogue with such a get up, but when he spoke it was with the clipped tones of a BBC announcer.

He’d already set up in the Weasley’s front yard for the class, having put out a table with two Pensieves.

“I’m sorry Mr. McTavish, I was just curious—“

“And I promise you, Miss Granger, that by the end of the class all of your questions will be answered.” And then he winked at her.

Hermione blushed.

“First we need to empty as many thoughts, embarrassing or upsetting or distracting, thoughts as possible into our Pensieve. Now, we only use one Pensieve per person at a time or the memories could get tangled up and you might not get your own memory back. We’ll do Witches first, and then after Miss Granger has had her session and retrieved her memories, Mr.s Potter or Weasley can go.

“Here, watch me do it and then you—“

“You mean when learning Occlumency you get to take out your embarrassing memories before the lesson?” asked Harry, suddenly quite interested in the proceedings.

“Well, yes, of course, Mr. Potter. Well, not every embarrassing memory. Why for some of us that would mean being here all day,” he snorted at his own joke. And winked again at Hermione again. This time she didn’t blush but felt the need for a bath.

“That bastard!” exploded Harry.

Hermione and Ron both knew whom Harry was talking about.

“Excuse me?” McTavish looked alarmed.

“When I had Occlumency lessons he took out his memories but I didn’t get to remove mine!” Harry’s eyes blazed.

“Well, well, um.” McTavish’s mouth opened trying to come of with a plausible explanation and then closed. “Hmm. Perhaps there was only one Pensieve available. Yes, I could see that. But we have plenty of Pensieves at the Ministry. Yes, whole rooms full of them—“

“So it would be wise to remove memories before taking lessons?” chimed in Hermione, thinking about her lesson with Snape last night.

“Ideally, yes.” McTavish looked a little less confident as he waited for the next outburst. Seeing none he continued, “Now, to remove a memory you simply think ‘what do I not wish to share’ and place your wand to your temple, thusly.”

A long silver strand came out from his head, which he gently placed in the Pensieve.

“Keep asking yourself that question until nothing else pops up in your mind.”

“Mr. McTavish, sir, should one always return memories after using a Pensieve?” Hermione said.

“Oh, please, Miss Granger. We are about to embark on an Adventure of the Mind. Heh. You may call me Travis. And your first name?”

“I’m Hermione. That’s Ron and Harry.”

“Good-oh. Much better, no need to stand on ceremony. Classes in Occlumency are such intimate things, best to be informal.”

Ron grinned, “Say weren’t you in Bill’s class at Hogwarts?”

McTavish shook his head, “No, I was in Charlie’s. We were rivals you know. I was Ravenclaw’s seeker and team captain. Oh, yes, we had quite a few set-tos back then. We competed in everything, even girls. You know I do owe him an owl. I shall rub his nose in my promotion, see what his comeback to that will be.” McTavish was smiling broadly now.

“Right, well, Travis,” continued Hermione, “are there occasions when one would use a Pensieve to say remove a bad memory or two, permanently?”

“Oh, good question Hermione! Brilliant. No. One would never want to do that. It could over time lead to the dissolution of the mind.” He sighed, “Not to say it’s never happened. Oh this is rather advanced stuff for a first lesson, very heady indeed; but as I have such astute students I shall indulge in your quest for edification.

“’The mind is not a book’, to quote Wiltworthy, it is more like a maze or a piece of woven cloth, a spider web or a tapestry and in a few cases, a junk heap. But for the most part you are not going to do something that could cause it to unravel. The reason to learn Occlumency is to protect one’s mind against a Legilimens who doesn’t care what condition your mind is in but will jump right in and take whatever he or she so wishes from it. There are two things that work in a Legilimen’s favor, a disturbed, unorganized, overly emotional mind and the element of surprise.

“If one knows one is going into the presence of a Legilimens and there is something you don’t want them to know, you can closet the memory in question in a Pensieve. Pensieves are useful things in many ways.”

He was addressing all of his speech to Hermione and suddenly seemed to realize that he was favoring her a bit too much. He closed his eyes and took a second before opening them and continuing, being sure to address both the boys as well.

“Pensieves are an objective way of observing your own mind, unclouded by your perceptions. But as defense against a Legilimens, it is also your best recourse. Therefore surprise works in a Legilimen’s favor because the victim will not have a chance to stow his memories.

“However, an organized, un-emotional mind is also nearly impossible for a Legilimens to crack. Unfortunately, it takes years of mind training for a Wizard or Witch to reach that point. Most of us are helpless before a Legilimens.”

“So, wouldn’t it then make it easier on the Occlumens to use a Pensieve before meeting a Legilimens?” said Ron, starting to get the hang of things.

“Yes, I believe I just said that,” replied McTavish, sounding a bit frayed and confused.

“So what would happen to a person who took all their memories, say of their mother, and put them in a Pensieve and never retrieved them?”

McTavish looked very uncomfortable, “Of their mother? Well, I only know of one or two cases to cite. One was of a Wizard who was married to a brilliant Legilimens. Sadly, she was a jealous woman and after a while rather than endure her rows over his looking at other Witches and his memories of previous flames, he began secreting all his thoughts and memories of Witches other than his wife into a Pensieve. Unfortunately, he left the door to the room where he had the Pensieve unlocked and the cat got at it. Playful little creature knocked the Pensieve to the floor and played with the threads like so many pieces of yarn. By the time the Wizard found out, his memories had dissolved into so many little bits of evanescence and were lost in the flooring. Over the next few months and years his personality began to dissolve and he eventually was placed into St. Mungos. That was in the 1800’s. The other case I know of was a dark Wizard of the Renaissance who removed a Witch’s memory of her husband and children as punishment for her refusing his attentions. She, too, went quite mad.”

Hermione felt a bit faint, “And was there no hope for either one of them?”

“Actually, I think the Wizard did recover after about 70 years. By that time, his wife was dead and he had enough new memories to re-weave the cloth of his mind. The Witch however was caught by Muggles, thrown into Bedlam and died.”

“So she, too, may have recovered?”

Harry and Ron were staring at Hermione. McTavish was looking at her with a perplexed expression. “Maybe we should just get on to the practical portion of our lesson, shall we?”

Hermione touched her wand to her temple and thought about Snape and her classes. There wasn’t much else she was concerned with and so she placed the memory carefully into the stone bowl. Suddenly she felt McTavish in her mind. She wasn’t prepared for his intrusion. She didn’t see him, didn’t know where he was. She breathed deeply and thought about her Arithmancy classroom. She was there in front of the blackboard and so was McTavish.

“Well done, Hermione. I was able to catch you off guard, but you didn’t panic. But I must say, this is very fine. You’ve made a mental mansion, I see. Excellent preparation for an Occlumens.”

“Really? I didn’t know?” She focused on the equation, letting it sooth her and calm away all concern that a total stranger was now in her mind.

Suddenly she found herself on the bluff overlooking the lake at Hogwarts. It was springtime and the flowers were out, there was a breeze and the setting sun was painting the sky in bright and wondrous colors. She turned and saw that McTavish was sitting next to her.

“How did we get here, Travis?”

“You let your guard down. I directed you to show me your memory of the most beautiful place on Earth. You do have good taste.”

“You did it so easily.”

“You trust me. That is another thing to watch for. When you trust someone you naturally let down your guard.”

“I have another question.”

“Fire away,” he took her hand.

“Normally you don’t get to talk and interact with memories. And yet we are here, interacting.”

“Highly unusual. I attribute it to your practice of mind control. You are highly self aware and this results in your having an image of yourself in mind.”

“What if you were to meet other people here?”

“I wouldn’t,” he smiled.

“Beg pardon?”

He lifted her hand and gave it a kiss. “If you were harboring other personalities, we call them introjects, borrowed from a term in Muggle psychiatry, well that would be the sign of a troubled mind. Someone who is losing their grip on themselves and so the mind is attempting a rescue. In a healthy mind you see memories of people acting out scenes with the subject. But what we are doing here is very rare and very special.”

Hermione suddenly found herself in an old stone church. She was dressed in a wedding gown of the same garish tartan that McTavish was wearing and she was holding a wedding bouquet of white and purple heather with a spray of gorse.

“You look absolutely splendid like that,” McTavish beamed.

Hermione decided that this was going a bit too far. She gave the gentlest of mental nudges and… found herself being held up in Ron’s arms. She was breathing heavily and her heart was pounding like she’d just run a mile.

“Here, what did you do to Hermione?” Harry had his wand out and had it poised just under McTavish’s nose.

“She’s an excellent Occlumens. She won’t be requiring any more lessons. However, I’ll give her my card and we can arrange an internship in my department in the Ministry. I think you have a beautiful future ahead of you, dear lassie.”

“Hermione, are you all right?” Ron’s face was bright red and his eyes were filled with concern.

Hermione dumbly nodded, trying to absorb the difference between Snape and McTavish and her two experiences at Occlumency. She’d let her guard down with McTavish and had found out what it was like to be a helpless doll in a Legilimen’s grip. She’d never let her guard down with Snape and as a result had stayed on top of the situation. She had to wonder though, was Snape losing his control?

“Hermione?” Harry was looking at her, “what happened to you?”

She blinked and shook her head. “That was amazing. Travis, you completely took me by surprise. I didn’t have a chance.”

McTavish smiled innocently. “That’s right. The element of surprise.”

“Hello, everyone,” called Remus. Hermione looked over McTavish’s shoulder and her eyes widened.

“Viktor!” she went running down the road where Viktor Krum was walking towards the house with Remus.

A/N: Fanny in U.S. = Bottom
Fanny in U.K. = Vagina

I liked the double entendre on this one. ;)

Also, there were two sex scenes in this chapter but I was running to 5,500 words-so I cut it! Don’t worry it will be in chapter 8.

Many thanks to my reviewers: mayken, DawnEB, firewall, TheAngelOfSilence, Killer Kadoogan, DemonicAngel, Vickie, LittleBird, nesscafe, Velvetina, sullicn