I, Snape - Chapter Seven

by April Grey

Chapter Umm? What Chapter Are We At?

“Ah, Severus, Severus, Severus. What would you do without me to pull your chestnuts from the fire?” Snape found Flitwick, as usual, to be insufferable.

“See here, Filius, you said it would be perfectly all right for me to come see you about this, even though it is a bit late at night.” Snape stalked back and forth in the spacious chambers of the Charms Professor. Seniority did have its advantages.

“Well, yes, indeed the whole castle has been atwitter with your various escapades, dear friend. Of course, I must help you out, in spite of your attitude. It’s only fitting for colleagues to—“

“Quite, what is it that you want?” Snape said quite silkily, in spite of his overwhelming desire to crush, maim and destroy his diminutive co-worker.

Flitwick handed him a pill. “It’s a Muggle drug called ‘Viagra’, see if you can duplicate it, eh?”

Snape looked at the pill, “What does it do? Is there a patent?”

“Well, there is a charm which has a similar effect. It’s your basic combination aphrodisiac and engorgement spell. I’m just curious as to which works better. And yes, of course, you are breaking Muggle patent. What do you care?”

“I just like the idea of breaking patents. Well, this is only one sample, do you have more?” Snape really felt it was a bit much, expecting him to duplicate a Muggle medication on such a small amount.

“Well, I’m going on holiday and I really don’t want to give up my supply…” Flitwick looked abashed.

“Why not a duplicating charm?” Snape sensed he was onto something, but wasn’t quite certain what.

Flitwick began to turn red and spoke hurriedly, “LEAVE IT, dear fellow.”

Snape felt pleased. Whatever it was, he had touched a sore point. Hmm. What if Flitwick had already tried and failed? Ah, yes, Charms wasn’t everything, was it? Inwardly, Snape grinned.

“Now, you wanted to know about these two documents?” said Flitwick, attempting to regain his composure.

“Hmm. You really didn’t need to come to me about this. You must be losing your touch, old man.” Flitwick squinted up at the wizard leaning over him.

Snape sneered, “Whatever do you mean?”

“There’s only one student talented enough to pull off this lovely little forgery charm and, hoo-hooo, a love spell on one as well.”

Snape’s rather long, ugly hooked nose wrinkled in digust. “There was a love spell on one of them?”

“Quite. You didn’t tell her that you didn’t write it, did you?”

“And if I did?”

“Broke the spell, surely you noticed a slight change in her attitude.” Flitwick beamed a smile.

Snape kicked himself, “Well, yes. I did.” He sighed. “So, you said someone talented did this.”

“Oh, yes, now that the Weasley Twins are gone, it could only be—“

“Draco Malfoy?”

“Draco?” Flitwick chuckled. “Why he couldn’t charm himself out of a paper bag!”

“You gave him top marks!” said Severus with some annoyance.

“Well, with a father like Lucius Malfoy, who wouldn’t? Finite Incantatum.” Flitwick tapped his wand to the parchments and the writing turned into smoke and then transformed back into ink. “Yes, it’s Granger’s work if I ever saw it. And it’s her handwriting, too. Look!”

“Hermione Granger!” spat Snape. “The Head Girl?”

“Oh dear, yes, as I thought. She’s the only one with sufficient talent to make this spell work. Quite the tidy little love charm, too-- it allowed its victim to see only what she wanted to see. Shame you had to break the spell. You might be on your honeymoon right now,” he chortled.

“Well, if I had been warned—“ Snape stopped himself. Whatever was he saying? What he was saying was that if Miss Granger had deemed to let him in on the secret he might still be enjoying the oh so naughty delights of their librarian? Snape shuddered and slid a trembling hand through his hair. “But only one of the parchments had the love spell on it?”

“Oh yes, Miss Granger assumed, quite rightly so I’ll bet, that you would take anything that would come your way. However, poor dear Madam Pince needed a bit more persuasion.” Flitwick began to titter his slight little nasty nasal laugh.

“Thank you, Filius. And explain to me again why when you did Finite Incantantum, it worked when I tried it for a half hour.” Snape was barely holding onto his temper, but he just had to ask.

“It’s all in the wrist, you see. You’ve always had a limp wrist when it comes to flick and swish.” Flitwick demonstrated and Snape reminded himself to never, ever ask stupid questions near the man again.

“I’ll have your duplicate pills to you before your leave.” Severus’ left eye began to twitch.

“Very good. I have just a smashing holi planned.” The charms teacher leered. “Met a whole group on the internet who appreciate my kind, you know, those of us with rather, ahem, unique endowments. Can you imagine? I’m so glad Albus decided to hook us up.”

Snape shuddered again. He’d seen Flitwick’s website: Flit-My-Wick.com and the less said the better.

Snape left Prof. Flitwick’s chambers and headed to the central corridor of the castle where the Head Girl’s room was located. It was rather late at night, but Snape felt perhaps that might be the best way to handle things. He’d knock on her door, awakening her, and then drag her to the Headmasters still in her nightgown. She’d be crying and fighting him the whole way. And then, and then, Albus would expel her for playing the most terrible trick that had ever been played on a Hogwart’s professor. And in fact, not just one professor had it been played on, but TWO! Yes, he would proceed there immediately and strike while the iron was hot, as the saying went.

Unfortunately, Snape found his heart not quite in it. Had it been Malfoy, Weasley or Potter this would count as one of the happiest days of his life. But Miss Granger? Well, surely she had been put up to it by Potter and/or Weasley, and knowing Gryffindor honor, she’d probably accept being expelled without a single word or action to try and take the other two down with her. No. Snape’s heart wasn’t into it. He felt disappointed in the Know-it-all, that she had allowed herself to be so ill used. However, that didn’t mean that he would go easy on her. Oh no! No two ways about that.

Snape was shocked to find Miss Granger still dressed when she came to her door.

“Ah, Professor Snape, what can I—”?

Snape quickly entered and turned dramatically on the girl with his eyes ablaze. “Do you know anything about these letters?” He held them high above his head, so she couldn’t see them.

Hermione’s eyes went large and she shook her head.

“Odd. It’s in your handwriting.” Snape swooped on her and pushed the parchments under her nose. Hermione made a little sound, something like a mouse might make just as an owl’s claws wrapped around her.

“I—I, I was only trying to help. You have to understand, they were plotting against you!”

Snape hesitated in his attack. The chit was appealing to his basic paranoia. Either she knew him very well or her instincts were as sharp as a grindylow’s horn. “Who was plotting against me?” Snape’s voice was velvety and his obsidian eyes continued to glint down on her as he focused his entire arsenal of intimidating manners upon her.

“Why your mother and Prof. Trelawney.”

“Nonsense!” raged Snape. “I haven’t spoken to my mother in years. We are dead to one another.”

“No. She loves you! She cares deeply about you, and she said—“

“Enough lies, Miss Granger! You are coming with me to the Headmaster’s office. Take a good look at your chambers. It will be your last before you are expelled.”

Snape grabbed her by the wrist and started for the door. That he had turned his back on her and not removed her wand were his first and second mistakes, ones he would regret for some time to come. As his hand touched the knob, he heard her whisper something and suddenly the room was changing.

Or he was!

His grip on Miss Granger ended when his hand shrunk and narrowed into a black, fur covered paw. His other hand attempted to turn the knob but quickly found that such behaviors were reserved for creatures with opposable thumbs, which he sudden lacked! The room spun about as it got bigger and bigger and suddenly Snape found himself at knee height to Miss Granger.

“Miss Granger. What have you done to me?” was what Snape tried to say, only it came out as a hiss, a spat and snarl. Snape, seeing his student looming over him, completely lost control of himself and literally climbed the stone wall until his claws found purchase in some drapes. He tangled himself in them, giving forth huge, somber meows of anguish that nearly broke Miss Granger’s heart.

“TURN ME BACK! You damned evil woman! What the hell have you done to me?”

At just that point, Crookshanks had the misfortune to emerge from his favorite hidey-hole under the bed. He twitched his nose at the smell of a frenzied, unfixed, male tomcat. He hissed once, which was enough for Snape, whose instincts were out of control. Snape launched himself at the familiar, claws out and teeth bared.

Crookshanks gave what might be considered a whimper and went down under a very large, angry and hysterical newly transformed potions professor.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Hermione cried and Snape went as frozen as an ice lolly. She picked up the shivering Crookshanks whose fur was standing up every which way. “Aw, did he hurt you? He always was a bully, but you know, bullies are just very scared little people inside.” She shot a nasty glance at Snape.

Oh are we? Thought the unmoving Snape. We shall see, Miss Granger. Being expelled isn’t good enough for you now. Ooooh, that whisker itches. Oh damn, unfreeze me. This is most unpleasant.

Instead, Hermione continued to croon and sooth her familiar. Soon Crookshanks stopped shivering and was purring.

Big, stupid overgrown pussy, what a loser! Couldn’t take it, could you? Snape thought daggers at the cat.

“Now, Professor. I appreciate you being a bit upset over what I did. It’s quite understandable that you would be; nonetheless, I cannot allow you to take it out on me, poor Crookshanks here or on any property. If you are willing to abide by those rules I can release you.

Release me! From this animal form? Yes. Snape hoped she understood him on some level, but rather doubted it.

Hermione took her wand and said, “Finite Incantatum” and Snape regained use of his body, his cat body. He shot under the bed and stayed there, trembling. Eventually, Miss Granger got changed into her nightdress. Snape was watching from beneath the bed. Large, yet perky, thought Snape. And immediately was ashamed of himself. This is a student. Don’t forget that. And a very dangerous witch to boot, he remonstrated with himself.

Hermione lay down in the bed. Crookshanks jumped up and lay down beside her, purring to reassure her, as if he knew his mistress was distressed. Hermione sniffed quietly, well aware that her dreaded Potions Master, who simply refused to understood that all of this had been in his benefit, was below her and could probably hear her if she cried out loud. So she let the tears soundlessly slide down her face. She didn’t know what to do. If Professor Snape had had just cause to have her expelled based on her trying to help him become involved with Madam Pince, what would he do to her for turning him into a cat? Quietly soaking the pillow, Hermione eventually fell asleep.

In time, the fire in the hearth died down and the room grew cool. Snape was cold and very much aware of the heat being radiated by the sleeping body above his head. Slowly, he eased his way out from under the bed. Crookshanks immediately jumped from his spot by Hermione and headed to the relative safety of the closet. Snape sniffed at the sleeping Hermione, enjoying the aroma of her breath. She was sweet, very sweet. Unthinking of the fact that he was about to sleep with one of his students, Snape buried himself under her covers, placing his large, black furred face into the yummy well of her nubile breasts. He inhaled the scent of them and almost purred. In fact, within a few minutes of relaxing in her warmth and smell, he was unconsciously purring. He couldn’t help it, somehow being in an animal body disconnected his higher functions of paranoia and anxiety which were not only chronic but almost a definition of who he was.

And, more relaxed than he’d been in years, he fell into what passed for a cat’s very deep sleep.

Snape’s cat senses woke him and alerted him that something had changed. The light in the room was very different. He’d seen easily in the dark, but now the room was too bright, not easy to see in at all. He blinked twice and then he became aware of Hermione’s body. Her breathing had changed; she was close to consciousness. Snape slowly crawled out from the warm nest that he’d so enjoyed that night. He felt sad to be leaving it. After a moment he came to his senses, his human senses.

He was a cat!

Miss Granger had had the sheer cheek to turn him into an animal—A feline. A genital cleaning, feces licking creature, Snape shuddered in disgust at the thought of being like Black, or ugh, worse, a werewolf like Lupin. Snape jumped down from the bed and squinted at the evil witch that he’d up to a moment ago so pleasantly been sleeping against. Vile girl! His fur bristled and puffed out.

“Oh, good morning, Professor.” Hermione said in dream-tinged tones. “Did you sleep well?”

Snape attempted to vocalize his disgust. It came out as a sharp, merrroup along with a swishing tail. He had to admit, though, that she looked quite the seductress with her wavy hair spread out upon the pillow and her breasts just about to tumble out of her nightdress. Suddenly Snape was very aware of his genitals. They needed urgent attention. They needed, oh no, licking! Snape was mortified. How could this be?

He went crawling under the bed, unwilling to allow Miss Granger the satisfaction of knowing he was fighting a losing battle with his animal form.

Hermione watched Snape, angry, upset, perhaps even humiliated, Snape, head for under the bed. She wanted to apologize again for what had happened, but with a sinking feeling realized it would do little good. She got up and headed to the bathroom, only remembering at the last minute to close the bathroom door so he wouldn’t be a witness to her morning tinkle.

While doing her toilet, Hermione applied her intellect as to how to escape this problem with a whole skin. She came up with a rudimentary plan. If she were to let people know that Snape had left early for his holidays, then no one would note him missing. And, if she were to keep him under wraps as it were until she had graduated and left Hogwarts, well, it was highly unlikely with his damaged reputation and recent experience with Azkaban that he would hunt her down and do her any damage. He really didn’t dare.

Hermione nodded and began to brush her hair. Rumours had been drifting all over the castle for the past few days about Snape’s erratic behavior. If she were to tell Hagrid that she’d run into Snape last evening and that he said he was heading for… Oxford! To do research…. No one would believe he was telling the truth, but then they would believe he had left. Hermione smiled and exited the bathroom, again forgetting that Snape was under the bed getting a large green cat’s eye full of a half clad Hermione Granger.

She got dressed, while humming to herself, and put out some food and water for Crookshanks. Only then did she remember Snape. She crawled a little under the bed.

“Oh, Professor. I’ll be right up after breakfast. What would you like? Kippers? Oatmeal? Bacon and Eggs? How about a nice fried tomato with fried bread? Professor?” Hermione was a bit insulted that Snape merely glared at her and turned around presenting her with his backside. After all, she’d tried, hadn’t she?

Hermione added a ward on the door so that Snape couldn’t sneak out when she left or returned. She’d had to do it numerous times, whenever Mrs. Norris went into heat. There was nothing that angered Filch more than the idea that someone’s familiar might do the nasty with his beloved cat. Well, there would be no worry of that with Snape, of course. But it had given Hermione great practice with doing both cat and kneazle-proof wards on doors.

Snape had been insulted and sickened by Hermione’s offer of the food. What he really fancied was a nice, fat mousey. Yes, a fat mousey, full of warm, succulent blood. Kippers! That’s smoked, was she trying to poison him? As soon as she left, and he did notice she had set wards at the door, so he didn’t even bother trying to sneak past her, he headed for the plate of cat food left out. He sniffed at it. It was nicely smelly. Tuna! Just the thing. He tucked in with great relish and left little for the familiar. To the victor go the spoils. Then Snape found a lovely spot of sunlight on the floor. It had heated up the stones very nicely.

After taking a moment to groom himself, Snape curved into a warm ball, complete with nose covered by tail. He drifted off into another pleasant sleep. In his cat dreams, there was the excitement of the hunt, and the joy of warm Granger breasts. He didn’t have nightmares of Dark Lords, or students exploding cauldrons on him. He was relaxed and happy for the first time in decades.

Oh, he knew he’d be missed. If anything, Flitwick would come looking for his supply of Muggle hardness pills. Yes, he could afford to relax and enjoy himself. Help was, no doubt, already on the way.

On to Chapter Eight
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