Occultus Intus Vos

Occultus Intus Vos

Title: Occultus Intus Vos - Introduction

Chapter: 1/?

Author: Bek Allen

Rating: NC17 for future chapters

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good and am borrowing JK Rowling's characters to help me. Don't sue, cos... you won't get much.

Feedback: Yes please, otherwise my muse will starve and die and I'll write no more.

Notes: I originally posted this on my GJ/LJ because I had started this in response to a challenge on WIKTT at Yahoo. However, halfway through writing chapter four, I realized that I'd screwed the requirements of the challenge up royally and beyond redemption - thus creating an entirely new fic than I had originally intended. Also, on reviewing the whole lot, I decided I needed to go in a different direction with the chapters to encompass the angst laid out ahead. This is a Severus Snape/Hermione Granger story, read it if you like, read it if you don't like. Just let me know what you think okay? Occultus Intus Vos is Latin for Hidden within You. Many, many thanks to Sophi from SycophantHex for Beta-ing this for me, you rock!

~*~*~*~

He was at it again. Not that there was anything wrong with that, people were entitled to their opinions; so why not Severus Snape? The dark, foreboding Potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry barely even had to lift a finger these days before the roses – red, white and pink – of Greenhouse Six were obliterated and turned to nothing but a few scant colors on the freshly fallen snow.

So intent was he on blasting away any joy the flowers would have wrought on their unsuspecting recipients, he missed the flash of red and gold as Fawkes moved higher amongst the branches of the rowan tree to avoid an early demise. A tilt of the bird’s head and one could - if looking close enough - see a familiar twinkle glistened in it's dark eyes, almost as if the bird was stifling the urge to chuckle at the man’s uncalled for attack on the innocent flora.

~*~*~*~

In another part of the castle, the Charms Professor was performing an uncanny imitation of her rival Head of House; so far, she’d taken fifty points each from Slytherin, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for having the audacity to have charmed the decorations around her class to shoot paper arrows at anyone who entered the room with an almost deadly accuracy that Firenze and Bane would have been proud of. In hindsight, it really was some magnificent charm work – the arrows did not crumple as one would expect parchment to do, but stayed firm and fell to the ground with a wisp of paper before zipping back to their respectful paper bows, and should anyone try to stop the arrow, it’s tip had been charmed to cut any exposed skin, resulting in one young Hufflepuff’s removal to the infirmary after spending twenty minutes trying to fend off the lurid pink piece of paper.

Hermione herself had suffered not many but enough paper cuts to warrant that she wouldn’t be drinking tea with lemon for the rest of the day. She sat behind her desk, her brown eyes flashing at the students before her; the fire in them, so rarely seen since the end of the war five years earlier, was lending her the intimidating edge one had only ever seen in their Potions Master.

“I had expected better from you Rahj,” she said, eyeing the young man, clad in blue and bronze and looking every bit like his older sisters. “Your sisters never once pulled a stunt like this in all my time at Hogwarts as a student.” She tilted her head ever so slightly, “You two, well…” she glared at the two students before her, Misses Elizabeth Creevey and Violet Parkinson, “I suppose I should be grateful that you worked together rather then against one another.” She straightened her spine, watching as the two girls shared what they obviously thought was a covert look. “Not only am I disappointed, I’m disgraced at your utter lack of responsibility.

“Someone could have lost an eye; as it was I had to send Miss Abbot to the infirmary when the cuts to her hands and cheek became too much. So, as punishment, along with fifty points from each of your Houses, you are to serve three days in detention helping Madam Pince restack the shelves in relation to Charms work.” She inwardly smiled as Violet paled.

“Mr. Filch also requires someone to help polish all of the silverware in the trophy rooms,” she said, steeling herself for some kind of retort from Rahj but nodded primly when he kept his mouth closed. “And I am sure Professor Snape has something for you to do during your detention, Miss Creevey.

“If I cannot trust you three to work together harmoniously, without causing trouble for the rest of the student body, then I cannot trust all three of you to perform the same detention duties. And if I hear of anymore foolish wand waving between classes and any more paper arrows that are inclined to shoot at someone upon entering a room, I will take this matter to the Headmaster and see that your prefectures are pulled into question.

“Do I make myself clear?” She eyed each one carefully, looking for any signs of an argument.

“Yes, Professor Granger.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“We won’t do it again, Professor.”

The three looked suitably chastised and Hermione couldn’t help but do a little mental cheering. “You are dismissed and your detentions will begin tomorrow evening after supper.”

The girls’ eyes widened and Rahj’s jaw fell open.

“But Professor, that means we’ll be performing our detentions during the Valentine’s Day…”

Hermione stood up behind her desk and stated, “Another twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Parkinson, for talking back to a teacher. If you would like to continue losing points for your house, by all means, continue to argue the point. If not, I suggest the three of you leave, NOW.”

When she was sure that they had fled not only the classroom, but the corridor as well, she flicked her wand and uttered a quick Incendio, taking great delight in watching the paper cupids with their charmed bows and arrows go up in a short burst of flames before clearing away any evidence with a softly murmured Evanesco. With a content smirk, she sat back and began to grade the assignments handed in by her third year Charms class, missing the twitch of fur as a tabby cat exited the room as silently as it had entered, its tail held firmly in the air.