Needfire

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.


lily has a rose
(i have none)
\"don\'t cry dear violet\"

\"o how how how
could i ever wear it now
when the boy who gave it to
you is the tallest of the boys\"

\"he\'ll give me another
if I let him kiss me twice
but my lover has a brother
who is good and kind to all\"

\"o no no no
let the roses come and go
for kindness and goodness do
not make a fellow tall\"

lily has a rose
no rose i\'ve
and losing\'s less than winning(but
love is more than love)

-- e.e.cummings


Chapter 8 - A New Kind of Student


Once again, after the new moon ritual, Snape found it difficult to re-enter his real life. This time it was because of the elation, the glory, of having awakened his Circle. All due to the presence of Hermione Granger, the counter-balance in the scale, yin to his yang, female to his male. He felt taller, more diamond-hard, more focused than ever, and more determined to study the Circle and druidism than ever before. But first he needed to speak to Miss Granger and clearly explain to her what a druidic apprenticeship could mean. It was at odds with his position as Potions Master of Hogwarts, and he must think very, very hard before proceeding. Above all, he must be clear with her.

Angharad, to a mildly shocked Severus, seated in their own small circle somewhere in Oxfordshire, summer.

\"Yes, I\'m naked. And so should you be.\"

\"But. Angharad. I.\"

\"You. What? Speechless at last?\" said with a small smile. \"It is mid-summer, we are to celebrate the fertility rite. Do you recall from your studies what that means? Or did you skip over that part of the book, Severus?\"

He knew that she saw him gulping. He had indeed skipped the reading, and so was unprepared. Her white robes were draped over the secondary altar. She approached him, oddly beautiful still, though with a certain softness of flesh. Experienced flesh, he thought to himself. He looked up at her face, lined, careworn; her hands, knotted and gnarled knuckles, reminding him of the burls on the sacred and ancient oaks. I am childish. Am I truly seeking knowledge, or am I seeking nothing but sensation? Am I so shallow? Would I reject this woman because of a certain droop of breast, a softness of belly? The external badges of wisdom?

I am not so shallow, he thought. He rose, unworking the knots of his belt and sandals, and at last, unwrapping the long cloth that covered his hips. He placed the garments with hers, draped across the stone, the sandals on top. After her words and the slow undressing, he was ready for her.

She looked at him with a small smile again. \"My sweet apprentice. Come, celebrate. Be my lover, be the god incarnate, make the goddess young again.\"

Severus took her in his arms. She was warmer even than the night. \"Be my goddess,\" he whispered.

The Stones\' power rose higher, humming, as they joined. Her feathered cloak tried to fly in the swirling of power, but could not, held to earth by his clothing and sandals. He cried out, seemingly flying himself, enraptured. Angharad. His mentor. His goddess.

~*~

For the next couple of nights Snape prowled the corridors again, looking for Weasley and Granger. He told himself it was because he wanted to see for himself that she was all right, remind her to return his cloak, talk to her about the apprenticeship, ask her about her reactions to the ritual and the power of the Stones. In the end, he knew he would not find her again. She would not be looking at him over the shoulder of her young giant. They were not stupid enough to be caught out twice.

He didn\'t find that particular pair; but there was another, equally interesting, lurking in the Slytherin corridors not far from his dungeon as he returned to his quarters. He was walking slowly, silently, musing on what could make a young woman wound herself. What about her was so vile, so unwholesome, that her own hands, her own arms, her skin, must be punished?

And again, as on the night he caught Weasley and Granger, the torchlight gleamed on sleek young hair; blond, this time, dipping to a dark head, palms against the wall, elbows bent, creating a cage -- or a shelter -- for the creature pressed betwixt him and the corridor wall.

Malfoy. Not an uncommon sight in the Slytherin halls; the young man was as randy as a stoat.

Or a Weasel. Stop it, Snape.

And who was he trapping this night? Snape paused in the shadows, curious. Malfoy\'s latest victim was held face to the wall, arms above the head, something that glinted held in one hand, with the blond\'s body tight against her. Or him. Malfoy made little distinction in partners, like his father. Sex was sex, after all.

\"Harder. Kiss me harder there.\" Do I recognize that voice? I do.

Malfoy\'s crystal chuckle was soft and he pressed closer with his hips, drawing a groan from his partner. \"Any harder and it will leave a mark.\"

\"Mark me, then.\" A quiet voice, breaking a little, passionate.

\"I\'ve already marked you there.\" A slow, sweet grind of his hips, another chuckle.

\"Merlin, Draco...Then do it again. Don\'t let it fade.\"

A dark head emerged past Malfoy\'s shoulder, as the partner twisted to be face to face. Malfoy\'s mouth lowered to his lover\'s neck and fastened there.

Once again, eyes opened over a shoulder and seemed to stare into Snape\'s. He flinched back, startled, before realizing that the faint glitter he now saw low down on Malfoy\'s back, was a hand, holding eyeglasses.

Lily Evans\' eyes, languorous and aroused, looked at Snape blindly, myopic, over Malfoy\'s shoulder.

\"Let me kiss you, Lily.\"

\"Why?\" A tiny smirk at the corner of her lips. She knew the power she had, he thought.

\"Why not?\"

\"Severus. Use your brain.\" Lily began ticking reasons on her fingers. \"We\'ll be caught. It\'s late, we should be in our Houses. We\'ve been talking for too long.\"

\"I love our conversations.\" He cut across her objections. \"One kiss,\" Severus drawled. \"How long can it take? And do you really care if we\'re caught?\" He was moving in close, not really inclined to let her say \"no.\"

\"Only one?\"

\"I promise.\"

\"One, then.\" And as he went to kiss her, she stopped him with two fingers on his lips. \"Our first, so make it good, Severus.\"

And she turned up her mouth, eager. Severus leaned in. Only one kiss, but she had not specified how long it could last, and technically, he\'d asked her that very question. Slytherin that he was, he\'d created his own loophole, and smiled as he touched her mouth with his.

Long moments later, still kissing, her hands clutched the front of his robe. His knees were trembling, and when he put his arms around her she did not object. She herself stepped closer, tilting her head so that his mouth slanted across hers with increasing passion.

Their first kiss. Sweet, hot. Like his first taste of crystallized ginger, dense with spice, sticky with sugar, an incredible mélange.

When Lily\'s palms flattened against his chest, Severus slowly lifted his head. Her eyes glowed up at him, beautiful, grass-green rim around bottomless pupil.

\"Goodnight,\" she whispered to him.

\"A good kiss?\" Seventeen. Such a deep-seated need for validation.

\"Moderate,\" she laughed at his consternation. \"We\'ll practice.\" They were near the Gryffindor corridors. Severus walked her as far as he dared -- Slytherins didn\'t visit Gryffindors, not without repercussions -- and saw her through the portrait hole, the swing of her dark red hair on her back leaving him dry-mouthed.

Malfoy.

And Potter, of all partners.

Snape could not help but wonder what James Potter\'s reaction would have been to discovering his son had taken another boy for a lover, and a Slytherin boy at that. The thought of James\' reaction made his mouth curl into a sneer. Dear James. You took Lily from me. And now Slytherin House has caught your boy, it appears.

Snape blinked, returning to himself, and retreated. He took the long way round to his quarters. He could not have explained his own mercy; passing up a chance to take more points from Gryffindor, unless it was for Lily\'s sake, Lily\'s boy in the arms of Malfoy, wicked serpent prince that the blond was, or perhaps it was the shock of the two youths, enemies for years and now tightly entwined, suddenly shifting his paradigm.

~*~

At breakfast the next morning, Snape found himself watching two tables, instead of his usual none. Slytherin, where Malfoy preened and pouted at the girls next to him. And Gryffindor, where the trio was seated as usual, Granger between her bookends. However, something was new there. Weasley\'s arm was not draped on her. She had removed it herself, twice, gently, and then with a hard elbow to Weasley\'s ribs the third time it crept back. Snape had been watching, covertly, and was mightily pleased with her.

\"Trouble in paradise,\" said Minerva now, sectioning her grapefruit. Snape\'s lip curled; he was not fond of grapefruit, and frequently Minerva managed to angle her spoon just so, and the fruit would spit in his direction. He shielded his porridge with his bent arm, elbow rudely on the table, changing hands to eat with the hand away from Minerva.

\"Meaning what, exactly?\"

She gestured with the serrated tip of the grapefruit spoon. \"Miss Granger, Mr Weasley. Not so close any longer.\"

Snape stifled his reaction at that comment, already wondering if Minerva had noticed his staring. Granger, less attached to Weasley. A good thing, in his opinion, and to Snape\'s personal benefit. He had ulterior motives.

\"Then I suppose that means Gryffindor will retain at least a few points,\" he said smugly. \"One fewer couple doing what couples do.\"

She slid him a glance. \"Twenty points. It still stings, Severus.\"

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. \"It\'s done, however.\"

Flitwick interrupted. \"It certainly is. Let\'s not go back over old ground.\"

Minerva and Snape both looked at him, then at each other. Minerva\'s wicked three-cornered smile appeared again. \"Want to go for five broken teacups this morning, Severus?\"

Snape almost smiled. Almost. There were times when she was as wicked as he, and he liked her for it.

Flitwick\'s wand quivered, and Minerva\'s long, greying hair crawled out of its bun, hairpins tinkling on the table, landing in her grapefruit and her teacup. Snape stifled a snort at Flitwick\'s prank, finished his porridge, and headed to the dungeon for his First Year Potions class.

~*~

Later that day, Snape was in his office, leafing slowly through Angharad\'s book, the one she gave him to study when she took him as her apprentice. Its leather cover had the dull patina of years of use, of much handling.

He turned to the pages detailing the rite for Samhain. Would it be clear enough to help Hermione Granger in making her decision? He read slowly, the way he had not read, all those years ago when Angharad surprised him at mid-summer, naked in their circle, waiting for him to unite with her sexually to perform the rite. He had let her down because he wasn\'t prepared, but in the end all had come clear. It had been perfection.

Snape closed his eyes, remembering the whirling, the vortex of force that rose as he made slow and careful love to his mentor. She had clutched at him, urging him on, faster, harder, but he was afraid he would hurt her. She was older, fragile. In the end she had whispered just one word to him, and it made all the difference.

\"Celebrate. \"

He smiled to himself and opened his eyes. They had celebrated, once, and then again. He looked back at the book, studying the description, and the small illustration. It was clear; and a bright student like Hermione Granger would understand, but the choice must be hers.

Snape knew what decision he wanted her to make. His Circle had come alive with her there, in nearly the same way something in him had come to life all those nights ago, when he found her in the corridor with Weasley. But again: it would be her choice, and hers alone, and he would not influence her. Regardless of the pictures he could still see when he closed his eyes, if he thought very much at all. His one true concern was her mental state: those damaged hands of hers haunted him very nearly as much as her eyes. And let\'s not forget, Snape...those dentist parents and Hogwarts Headmaster would not be likely to approve of this. But, oh -- to teach her as I was taught, and to watch her call down the Needfire, and finally share these things with another.

He shelved the book carefully and returned to his lab to grade potions from the morning first-year\'s class. He knew they were all foul; but they all required review. And after that, of course, punishment essays.

Snape was seated at his lab desk when the door opened and Hermione Granger entered, her arms wrapped around her schoolbag, and a cloth bundle. He looked up attentively; perhaps she was returning his cloak. He hadn\'t liked it being out of his possession for so long; the risk of exposure was too great. He rose and beckoned her into his office. Snape knew she heard his password to his office and he reminded himself that at some point he must change it. But not right away. Not until she had made her decision.

Her reaction, upon entering his inner sanctum -- where, upon surprised reflection, he realized she had never been before -- was to be drawn as if by a magnet towards the glassed-in bookcases. He knew she was a bookworm; Madame Pince had often complained that it was as well there was a limit on the number of books a student could borrow, or eventually they\'d simply have had to give Granger a dormitory room in the library itself.

But after just the one longing step, Granger stopped, governing herself, and waited, clutching the bundle. Snape went to the shelf where he kept Le Monde, and lifted it down. More than one purpose here: he would hold out the book to her, and she must expose those hands of hers in order to take it. If there\'s been no improvement, I will not... The thought came reluctantly, slowly, grudgingly: I will rescind the apprenticeship offer. Let there have been improvement.

She put her bundle down to accept Le Monde. And as she tucked the volume inside her schoolbag, he noted that her hands seemed less raw. He wanted a closer look, and turned back to the shelf for Angharad\'s book. Snape held it out to her, holding it gently by the edges, the book lying against his forearms. He saw her hands tremble as she took the old book. They do look better. He let the book go somewhat reluctantly, allowing her to tug it away from him, her fingers brushing his as she gripped it. Angharad, am I doing the right thing? It feels right. But there are obstacles. Minerva. Guide me.

There was a moment of fumbling as he reminded her about his cloak. Hermione -- Miss Granger, he reminded himself, harshly -- unbundled it and returned it. It appeared none the worse for its time in the Head Girl\'s room, and he draped it carefully over his office chair.

\"What is this book?\" she asked now. She was handling it carefully, giving it respect, yet still caressing the old, old leather.

\"Druidism, and the druid rituals. Written by one of our own many years ago, and handed up through the generations. Read it. Consider what you read. And think it over carefully. Think carefully why it is you wish to learn. I want you to be able to make your own decisions concerning the apprenticeship. It should be based on accurate information of the rites you will be performing and the knowledge you will acquire.\" He looked at her sternly, but she only nodded.

\"That will be it. You may go now.\"

After she was gone Snape was restless. He\'d been immured in this prison long enough, lately, and was heartily sick of substandard student potions and execrable essays. There was not even any wish to prowl the corridors for points to deduct. He took some Floo powder from a small casket on the mantel, and tossed it into his cold fireplace. \"The Three Broomsticks,\" he said, and stepped inside.

It was a quiet night in the pub, for which he was grateful. A few patrons nursed drinks near the fireplace where he stepped out. Rosmerta saw him, arched an eyebrow at him, and he nodded. His regular, yes. Stolichnaya, chilled, thank you. Rosmerta brought him the drink as he settled in a corner far from the door, his back to the wall, not far from the Floo. Death Eater training never quite faded. Always protect your back, know all your exits. Thank you, Lucius.

He sipped at the vodka, watching with some interest and some vague concern as a woman detached herself from the bar and moved slowly towards him. She looked familiar. Dark hair, a slight wave to it; blue eyes. High cheekbones, a bit flushed with liquor.

\"Professor Snape. Of all people.\"

\"Yes.\"

\"How nice to see you again. Do you remember me?\"

\"Your face is familiar, I admit. A former student, perhaps?\"

A slight smile. \"May I join you?\"

He gestured to the chair across the table. \"Please.\" This could be interesting. And then he had her name as she turned briefly in profile. Dark head, bent in concentration over a cauldron; a better student from nearly ten years ago. Marina Lewis. \"Miss Lewis,\" he said. She was pleased that he remembered, he saw. Her flush deepened. \"What are you drinking?\"

\"Just firewhiskey.\"

Snape caught Rosmerta\'s eye and requested a drink for his table companion. They were silent until it arrived. Snape could feel a certain tension stretching between them. She wanted something from him, and if he was right...it would not be unwelcome to give her what she wanted.

But first of course, small talk. How he hated it. \"What have you been doing since you left Hogwarts?\" he asked.

\"I went into potions brewing, actually,\" Marina replied. Her fingers trailed up and down the dimples in her small glass. Oh, yes. A clear signal. He took a larger sip of his drink. The sooner his own glass was empty, the sooner they could move on. \"It seems so mundane, but I\'ve been moderately successful with various cleaning solutions for a number of things.\"

\"Worthwhile,\" he said now. \"You were a fair student.\"

She tossed her head. \"More than fair, Professor Snape.\"

He allowed himself a small smile. \"Yes, I suppose so.\"

\"The great Snape, unbending?\" She sipped, but not much.

\"Why not? I am, after all, outside my dungeon.\" He sipped again; half gone.

\"Indeed.\" He watched her take a deep breath, and then the plunge. It was humorous. \"I had a crush on you, you know.\"

\"Really.\" He hadn\'t known. Some of his students did develop fascinations; it was peculiar to him. \"You hid it well.\" He took the next step in this stupid dance, and stretched his hand out on the table near his glass, palm down. She looked at his fingers, and then up at his face. \"Are you still crushing?\" he asked now. Her eyes flicked to his and he allowed himself yet another small smile. Careful, Snape. Your face may crack.

Her hand nudged his, fingertip to fingertip. \"Shamefully, yes,\" she admitted. \"I saw you come in and...well, ten years just vanished, and here I am, staring at the Potions Master like a lovesick owl. It\'s so stupid.\"

\"Hardly that.\" He tossed back his vodka. She was watching the muscles of his throat, and he was pleased. \"Have you moved here to Hogsmeade?\"

\"Yes, actually. A month ago, to be closer to work.\"

\"Enjoying it?\"

\"Quite.\" Her fingers twitched alongside his.

\"Miss Lewis.\" Get to the bloody point.

\"Marina.\"

\"Marina. Would you like another drink?\"

\"I haven\'t finished this one.\"

\"But I\'ve finished mine.\"

\"Do you have somewhere you must be this evening?\"

\"Not particularly, though I should be grading punishment essays.\"

She laughed at that, and he liked her laugh. \"How I hated those.\" She flicked her lashes down, and then up again. \"But you never gave me detention, in all those years.\"

\"How ever did you escape.\" Ah yes, here we are. The fascination.

\"Not a failed potion in the bunch, I suppose.\"

She\'s fishing for your approval. She wants you to pounce, Snape. He moved his fingers against hers and turned his palm up on the table. \"Would you like a detention now, Marina? Is that why you\'re here talking with Hogwarts\' own resident evil professor?\"

Snape saw a flush move up her throat. Too direct? She swallowed. She knocked back the rest of her firewhiskey.

\"Now that you mention it...yes, Professor Snape, I would, rather.\" And when he laughed, she smiled, and placed her hand in his. A nice smile.

~*~

Marina\'s flat was small, but thankfully clean and orderly. Snape was relieved; he could not abide untidiness.

There was no preamble. After she locked the door behind him, her hands were at his shoulders, removing his robes. She hung them up for him in the coat closet with her own, and then took his hand and led him to her bedroom. She turned to face him, and he pulled her into his arms, bending his head, taking her mouth.

She was aggressive, and in a hurry, he thought. Within moments her wand was out, and she had charmed their clothing away. She backed him towards her bed, and when his knees hit, she pushed him down.

\"In a hurry?\" he asked her, almost laughing. Almost.

\"Yes,\" she muttered. Her hair swung down on either side of his face as she bent to him, tongue flickering.

\"Why?\" He spoke against her mouth, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs as she half lay upon him. She gave a great shiver.

\"Gods, your hands. Always the sexiest thing about you, Professor. Except for your voice.\"

Lily, naked above him, squirming, as he tickled her. \"Stop that.\" And then a moment later, \"No...don\'t stop.\" Laughing. \"I changed my mind, Severus. As usual.\" They were in his dormitory bed, the curtains pulled, a silencing charm cast over the entire thing. He had smuggled her in; the Slytherin boys were less particular about keeping Gryffindor girls out of their rooms than the Gryffindors were about the Slytherins. He was tiring of her games, and with a swift movement rolled her beneath him and trapped her. He kissed her hard. She was suddenly serious. \"Now,\" she said. \"Do it now. Don\'t wait.\" She had told him it would be her first time; it was certainly his. His movements were awkward, but a few moments later he was successful, and she arched upwards, staring into his eyes, a small frown line between her brows.

\"It hurts you, Lily?\"

\"Not exactly. Give me a moment.\"

\"My voice?\"

\"Two points from Ravenclaw,\" she whispered in a rush of breath, straight into his ear. \"Say it for me.\" It had the desired effect; when her hand slid down his belly towards him, he was erect and ready for her.

Now he did laugh. This was by far the oddest encounter he\'d experienced with a former student, but as she gripped him, stroking firmly, his laughter died. He mustered his firmest Potions Master voice, though he had to swallow first. \"Two points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lewis.\" She bit his ear, and then moved lower to suck at the side of his jaw. He could feel her raising a welt there. \"Make that three points from Ravenclaw, Miss Lewis.\" His voice throbbed. She moaned a little, her hips wavering above him, teasing, taunting. When Snape\'s hips rose to try and seat himself within her, she swayed away.

He spoke again. \"I thought you were in a hurry, Miss Lewis.\" She seemed to like being referred to in the way she had been while at Hogwarts.

\"So I am,\" she whispered. She finally settled over him, and began to move. Her blue eyes were beautiful, and reminded him of

Angharad, dear one

and in his confusion he almost spoke his mentor\'s name. While it often happened that he pictured Angharad or Lily during sex, he had never had their names rising so easily to his lips before.

\"Keep talking,\" Marina ordered.

\"What about?\" Snape\'s hands at her hips were helping her set a long, slow rhythm. She had calmed from the first mad rush and seemed willing to go with him on a longer, sweeter journey, instead of a quick fuck.

\"Anything...anything...just talk to me.\" She brushed her thumbs over his sensitive nipples and pulled painfully at some of the hairs near them. Snape growled a little.

Potions Master Snape began reciting the recipe from the potion the first years had brewed that morning. Her head fell back, and she was smiling, eyes closed. When he finished with the list of ingredients, he began to give her specific directions on how to stir this particular potion. \"Slowly, slowly,\" he whispered hotly into her ear, wrapping his fingers in the strands of her hair, and pulling her face down to his. \"Slide just a little to the side...yes, just there. I\'ll help you...oh...make sure we reach all parts of this cauldron. It\'s a very...warm cauldron, Miss Lewis.\"

The pressure built and built, and eventually he felt her rhythm slowing, nearly halting, as she spasmed against him. \"That\'s right,\" he whispered. \"Ten points to Ravenclaw.\" He closed his eyes to come with her. And instantly, Hermione Granger was there in the bed with them. He saw again the heavy lids that lifted, languorous with desire, saw again the dreaming dark eyes that met and held his own, drew him in, swallowed his soul, or what there was of it. His eyes shot open, but his climax continued, ferocious, knotting. For a moment he was confused, for the dark hair swinging beside his face was not wild and honeyed curls.

No. I will not go there. Oh, Hermione. Oh. I cannot help it. Merlin. Oh, Merlin, Hermione.

He forced himself back from the cliff edge, but he could no longer speak. Marina, spent, slid to the side and smiled at him, moving his sweaty hair aside from his forehead with her soft fingers.

\"Lovely, lovely detention, thank you, Professor,\" she said. Her own eyes were heavy-lidded. He kissed her lips softly. I have used you. Forgive me. Forgive me, Lily. Angharad. And you, as well, sweet girl.

When Marina slept, which was not long in coming, Snape slid out of the bed, dressed himself, and let himself out of the flat.