Heroes (Edit, Not Update)

CHAPTER 7 ~ The Headmaster’s Haunts

Hermione rode up the shifting stairwells to the seventh floor, still wearing the scowl she donned in the dungeons. The stairs connected to the landing and the little witch stalked off, heading for tower that housed the Headmaster’s office. She stopped in front of the grinning gargoyle and recited the password Severus had chosen to gain entrance to his domain. He preferred multiple rhyming passwords, probably in the hopes that visitors might forget a word, get the order wrong or at least understand what he expected them to do once in his presence, which was quite clear.

”Converse, Reverse, Disperse,” Hermione said with a sigh.

Only Severus.

The days of simple, entertaining passwords such as “Lemon Drops” and “Flickety Wickets” were long gone. A Slytherin was in the house now

The statue jumped aside and the wall behind it split in two, revealing the winding stone staircase that led up to the Headmaster’s Office. Hermione mounted it, and it slowly wound upward as the wall closed. It stopped at an upper landing and Hermione dismounted, walked up to the gleaming oak door, lifted the brass griffin-shape knocker and knocked three times.

The knock was answered by several moments of silence, then the Headmaster’s irritated voice sounded.

”I’m busy, come back later or talk to Headmistress Granger who will relay your message,” Snape called at the door, poring over his paperwork and putting it into separate folders for his presentation at the Board of Governors.

”Severus Snape, you let me in right now!” Hermione snarled through the door.

Severus looked up and arched an eyebrow, an unpleasant little smile creasing his lips. From the fury in Hermione’s voice, Kreacher must have made his appearance.

”One moment, Headmistress,” Severus purred, and just sat there for a few seconds, letting Hermione stew. He liked when she was angry. Her brown eyes would flash, she’d grow flushed, her voice would squeak . . .

It reminded him of when she’d orgasm in his arms. Always very pleasant to observe.

“Come in, Headmistress,” Snape said silkily, sitting back in his high back upholstered chair and folding his pale hands on his desk, his dark eyes resting on the door somberly.

Hermione pulled it open and entered.

The office was decorated much differently than when Dumbledore and Minerva occupied it. Firstly, the large windows that opened on the mountains and Quidditch pitch were covered with heavy green curtains and kept closed no matter the season. The candles and lamplights had been removed, replaced by torches in sconces and the lighting was kept just above dim. The portraits of previous Headmasters and Headmistresses had little pull curtains on them that Severus kept closed for the most part, though he did open them on occasion. Only Albus’ portrait, which was directly behind Snape’s claw-footed desk, was uncovered, and he waved at Hermione, but kept silent. Severus wasn’t above covering him up too if the old wizard got on his bad side.

The silver inkpot still remained on the desk, but the scarlet feather had been replaced by a large green one, and the spindly legged tables that held all of Dumbledore’s curious instruments were gone, as was Fawkes’ golden perch. The Pensieve cabinet remained however. All of the former Potions Master’s books now filled the office, resting in ceiling to floor bookshelves that rested against almost every wall of the circular office, except for the wall exactly behind Snape.

With the exception of one shelf on the tippy-top that held the Sorting Hat and Godric Gryffindor’s sword, that was the area for his assortment of glass jars containing potions, most of which had slimy pieces of animals and plants in each. A large, dead frog suspended in a purple liquid stared directly at the entry. The jars served as a grisly backdrop for the current Headmaster, Albus’ portrait surrounded on all sides by slimy, staring things. Snape also had a cabinet that contained more potions recessed in the wall for easy access. The comfortable armchairs and sofas were replaced by hard wooden furniture, designed to make visitors as uncomfortable as possible, and hopefully inspire them to leave quickly after their business was done.

Snape’s position at Hogwarts may have changed, but his method of operation hadn’t. His office was as dungeon-like as possible.

”I assume Mr. Rogue and Miss Joiner have been safely ensconced in the dungeon area?” he said to Hermione quietly as she pulled out her wand and added a cushion to the hard oak chair in front of his desk and sat down, frowning at him.

”Yes, they have,” she replied in a tight voice.

”I trust they found the accommodations suitable?” Snape continued, his dark eyes glittering.

”The accommodations are fine,” Hermione snapped at him.

”I imagine all is in order then,” Snape said, “a fine job, Headmistress.”

“Almost,” Hermione said, her brown eyes narrowing, “there is just the matter of Kreacher.”

Both of Severus’ eyebrows rose up in surprise.

”Is there a problem with Kreacher?” he asked in mock surprise.

Hermione scowled at him blackly.

”You know damn well there’s something wrong with Kreacher. He’s not suitable to serve anybody, much less Mr. Rogue!” she said to him angrily.

Severus leaned back in the chair.

”What? Has Kreacher refused to serve Mr. Rogue?” the Headmaster asked her silkily.

”Well, no . . . he hasn’t refused to serve him, it’s just . . . his attitude that’s a problem. It’s clear he doesn’t like being put in the position,” Hermione said.

Severus tapped his fingertips together, then said, “Kreacher is a house elf . . . a servant. What he likes and dislikes does not have any bearing on his service. His natural inclination is to serve. Kreacher has not had the privilege to serve only one individual for years. I believe he needs a break from the usual dull Hogwarts fare he’s used to. A bit of one on one for the elf will do him good,” Severus purred.

“Severus Snape, don’t you dare try to twist this to make it seem as if you are doing something for Kreacher! You sent Mr. Rogue that elf to make his time here difficult and you know it!” she snapped at him.

Severus looked at her coolly.

”I know no such thing,” he responded, “Kreacher served the House of Black for many, many years and is well versed in personal service. He might be a bit opinionated about some things, but we have to make allowances for his age. He is as good a choice as any elf at Hogwarts and actually deserves some differential treatment. He did serve the Greater Good at the Final Battle. A cushy assignment is definitely in order, Headmistress. He will not be reassigned.”

”But Severus, he refers to Mr. Rogue as ‘the thing!’ That’s insulting!” Hermione said.

”The Thing?” Severus repeated, his mouth quirking. “Obviously Kreacher has not yet reconciled exactly what Mr. Rogue is, being he is neither Muggle nor wizard. Most likely, ‘sorcerer’ is not in his vocabulary. He’ll straighten it out eventually. It is no reason to reassign him. As long as he does what is asked of him, I will not return him to regular service, Headmistress. That is the end of it.”

Hermione frowned at Severus. She couldn’t argue with him in his capacity as Headmaster, and he made sure to address her by her title despite her referring to him on a more personal level. If he had addressed her as Hermione, he would have made this a personal argument rather than a matter of his authority.

Snape was far too smart to fall into that trick bag. Artimus was stuck with Kreacher until the elf did something to be dismissed for. Unfortunately, muttering didn’t fall into that category.

Snape watched Hermione with hooded eyes, knowing she was incensed. Still, there was nothing the witch could do . . . at least in her capacity as Headmistress. More than likely tonight she would give him not one, but two cold shoulders, attempting to sleep in her own quarters. But that was fine.

Severus enjoyed the process of seducing Hermione and planned to take advantage of her displeasure with him to hone up on his skills.

A wizard could get rusty and Snape still loved a challenge. If Hermione were anything, it was that. No doubt she would try to make removing Kreacher from Mr. Rogue’s service a negotiation point, but he already had the argument for that little tidbit firmly set in his mind, one guarantee to inspire a bit of guilt in the witch for attempting to be manipulative.

Manipulation was a Slytherin’s forte. And guilt, a Gryffindor failing. Thank goodness for the house-wide cultivation of deeply ingrained Gryffindor psychological weaknesses. If it had been applicable, many Catholic nuns would have been proud of the job done on Godric’s prodigy.

”What are you presenting to the Board?” Hermione asked, eyeing the paperwork on Snape’s desk, deciding not to say anything more about Kreacher, for now. It would come up again in a less formal setting . . . she’d make sure.

“The next term’s budget, and a few regulation changes I hope that they’ll pass,” the Headmaster said, adjusting the folders.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

”I hope you aren’t trying to bring the incarceration of offending students to the floor again, Severus,” she said to him.

”I most certainly am. Detention is not enough in my estimation. If the students knew they’d be cooling their heels in the sub-dungeons for a couple of days, existing on nothing but vegetable broth and crackers, behavior at the school would improve three-fold. Filch’s continued request that we reinstitute ‘caning’ will also be brought to the floor,” Snape said.

Hermione shook her head.

”It’s not going to work, Severus . . . you know that. You try it every term,” the witch said.

Snape stood up, opened a briefcase and put the folders inside, closing it back and looking at Hermione.

”There is much to be said for determination, Headmistress. I am not a man to back down concerning the causes I believe in. That is why I am Headmaster,” he said to her darkly. “One day they will allow me to include this form of punishment. I’ve adjusted the presentation to only be applicable to those students guilty of being given detention four times a term. In other words, repeat offenders. Those students who practice restraint and respect for the school rules have nothing to worry about. Now, doesn’t that sound reasonable? Just the knowledge they could be incarcerated would be a deterrent to wrong action.”

Hermione thought the students at Hogwarts were extremely well-behaved, much more so than when Albus and Minerva ran the school. She was sure it had something to do with a snarky Slytherin being in charge now.

Severus Snape was taking no prisoners, at least not until the Board of Governors agreed.

”Now, if there is nothing else, Headmistress, I must depart,” Snape said, walking around the desk and looking down at Hermione, who rose.

”No. I have to schedule my quarterly meeting with my Gryffindors,” Hermione said.

Besides being Deputy Headmistress, Hermione was also the Gryffindor Head of House. Once every quarter she met individually with her charges to discuss how their time at Hogwarts was going, their marks and any difficulties they might be having. This was something she’d instituted and it was unprecedented. Yet, she remembered there were times she wished she had a staff member to talk to concerning her fears and problems, knowing that it would go no further. When she became Head of House, she made it so and it seemed to help her students adjust better to the school.

”Still scheduling,” Snape said to her softly, “think you can pencil me in for several hours tonight, Headmistress?”

He might as well start the seduction now.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him.

”Are you asking me in the capacity of Headmaster or on a personal level?” she asked him, pursing her lips.

He leaned a bit closer.

”I’m asking in whatever capacity that will get me a favorable response,” he purred at her.

”Well, in the capacity of Headmaster, this could be construed as sexual harassment,” she said to him glibly.

Snape smirked.

”Your libido is showing. I made no mention of anything remotely sexual. For all you know, I wish to engage you in a few rousing games of Snap,” the wizard said, his eyes glittering.

Hermione snorted.

”Yes. I can imagine what you’d like to make ‘snap,’ she replied, but could help the little pulse in her belly as Snape moved a bit closer. She could feel the heat from his body, or imagined she could as those intense eyes met hers.

”Can you?” he breathed.

Suddenly Snape lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly, capturing her lips between his for one sensuous moment, then pulling away slowly, noting her mouth remained pursed and her eyes closed. He straightened.

”I must go,” he said imperiously, Hermione’s eyes snapping open as he spun her toward the door.

”Keep an eye out for our guests,” he said as he walked her to the entrance of the office. Hermione walked through the door and turned back toward him.

”I’ll see you tonight, witch . . . provided you’ve penciled me in,” he said, lifting one eyebrow.

”There might be room,” she said softly.

Damn him. He always did this to her. Well, by tonight she’d be pissed off again, she was sure. Right now, the wordplay was too delicious to ignore.

”If not . . . I’ll ‘make’ room,” he said, a hint of danger in his voice.

Hermione loved it when he threatened her.

”Goodbye for now, Headmistress,” the Headmaster said, then watched her mount the stone stairwell and descend, looking back at him.

Snape watched until she exited, then turned back into his office, banished the comfy cushion from the chair Hermione occupied, then tossed some floo powder from a box on the mantle into the fireplace. The flames turned green.

”The Board,” he said, stepping through.

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A/N: lol. This was fun to write. I hope I didn’t offend any Catholics in this chapter. It’s just that I had a friend who went to catholic school who used to crack me up about nuns handing down guilt, and I remember her always saying, “The nuns would be so proud,” anytime she felt guilty about something. Her name was Samantha and she was a real hoot. Lol. Although not canon, I always believed Gryffindor would feel guilty about something faster than any other house. I think it’s all that nobleness ingrained in them. Anything less than noble would have to inspire some guilt. :) And I loved coming up with Snape's password. lolol. Anyway, thanks for reading. ***