There and Back Again
Chapter 9 of 26
HechiceraA witch from the Andean altiplano arrives at Hogwarts to teach DADA. Culture clash, conflict, and smut ensue.
ReviewedA/N:
More than the usual thanks to my wonderful beta and Britpicker, RedSkyAtNight...because this chapter took a lot of revision, and was so much better once I had implemented her suggestions.
And a special thanks to President Hugo Chávez of Venezuela, for the "smell of sulfur" image. Guacho, vos tenés tres pelotas.
The room in which they found themselves was large, and expensively appointed. There were tall, velvet-curtained windows, and gilt-edged chairs, and portraits of long-dead aristocrats on the walls. At the far end of the room, a single high-backed chair faced the massive fireplace. There was a strong, nauseous smell of burning sulfur.
At first it seemed they were alone in the room. She was clutching Snape's arm in a death-grip, and he gently reached down and disengaged her hand, then put his arm around her shoulder.
"My Lord," he said.
A figure rose up from the chair and turned to face them, and Rawa felt the bile come up in her throat.
It was a reptilian face, the eyes icy and glittering, the nostrils mere slits in its smooth, featureless surface.
"Severus," it said, in a cold, sibilant voice. "What have you brought me?"
"A visitor," said Snape neutrally. He sounded surprisingly relaxed, and had begun to stroke Rawa's upper arm with his fingers. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Rawa Akapana. She wished to meet you."
Rawa inclined her head but did not trust herself to speak. It took every ounce of will she had not to Shield herself, and she leaned into Snape, glad of his arm around her.
Voldemort looked her up and down. "What an interesting little creature, Severus," he said. "I hear Dumbledore found it swinging from the trees in the very jungle."
Rawa lifted her chin. "I am descended from kings, my Lord," she said.
"It speaks," he said with a condescending smile. "Bring it here and let me look at it."
She forced her feet to move, and Snape came with her, his hand still warm on her shoulder. The noxious smell grew stronger as she approached Voldemort, who looked from Snape to her and back again. "We will have to see if this little gift offers any potential for amusement." His thin lips curved in a chilling smile. "Take your hand away from her," he said to Snape in a voice like breaking glass.
"My Lord..." began Snape, but Voldemort silenced him with a look, and with a kind of despair Rawa felt Snape's hand leave her shoulder. She looked quickly over at him, and he met her eyes and gave a barely perceptible nod. Then Voldemort ran a finger down her neck, and it was all she could do to keep from shuddering and shrinking back from his cold, sinuous touch. She saw Snape stiffen.
Voldemort saw it, too, and smiled coldly. "You must not let this tendency to grow attached to females become a tiresome habit, Severus," he said thinly. "It would irk me to have to keep getting rid of them."
He reached out almost casually and ripped her shirt from collar to hem.
Snape's face was white and rigid. "No!" he said, and Voldemort looked over at him.
"Speak again," he said softly, "and you will have leisure to regret it."
With an enormous effort of will, Rawa raised her eyes to meet Voldemort's. "The kiss of the Inka is a powerful magic," she said.
He looked from her to Snape, and back to her. "Really?" he asked in a bored-sounding voice.
"Taste it and know," she said. "Or wonder." She did not drop her eyes.
He reached out one smooth, hairless arm and grasped her jaw in his hand. His grip was as cold as death, and horribly strong; fear roared through her. Still watching Snape, he brought his mouth cruelly down on hers.
The smell of sulfur was overpowering. His thin lips on hers were cold and smooth and dry, and she fought hard to stop herself gagging .
Ya, she thought, te devuelvo lo tuyo, and pushed, and pushed, gathering the fetid thing from its hiding place in her consciousness and vomiting it back into its owner.
When her mouth broke free of his, she knew it had worked. His eyes were bright with greed, and his grip on her tightened.
"Did I speak the truth?" she asked in a triumphant voice. He pulled her to him again and clamped his mouth to hers, and she thought, I cannot go on with this. I cannot.
But she knew she must, that to falter now would be to fail completely. She steeled herself and dropped the gate.
It was like falling into a pit of vermin.
They seethed about her, the images of fear and pain, of cruelty and torture. She was suffocating in the darkness, slipping and falling on the slithering creatures all about her, drowning in the stench of them.
Somewhere in all of this was a bit of Harry, and she knew with a sudden anguish that she could never find it, that searching it out amid this seething mass was an impossible task.
She began to call to it. Come to me, she said. She brought the image of Harry into her consciousness, the unruly hair and green eyes, the self-deprecating smile: Come to me. Come home to me. She conjured the sound of his laughter: Come to me, Harry. Come home.
There was nothing, and nothing, and then she felt it: a tiny thread. She pulled, and pulled, and felt it move toward her at the same time she felt Voldemort began to loosen his viselike grip on her. Come to me. She pulled, gathered it into her arms like an infant, came away with it just as the reptilian face drew back from hers and the hairless hands pushed her away.
She took a great breath of the poisonous-smelling air, and suppressed an almost irresistible urge to scrub her mouth with the back of her hand.
She saw the disappointment on Voldemort's face, and said, with a great effort at calm, "It is not a bottomless vessel, my Lord."
"It would seem not."
"Slow to replenish itself, but worth the wait, would you not agree?"
"How slow?" There was naked greed on the snakelike face.
"Six months, perhaps nine." He is vain, she thought. Flatter him. "I know, my Lord, that patience is among your many powers." A gamble, it was such a terrifying gamble. Que lo trague, she thought. Let him swallow it.
"Very well," he said. "Take her home, Severus. And be warned," he added, as Snape came forward and took Rawa by the arm, "she is not yours to feed from."
"As my Lord wishes," said Snape, bowing slightly; he seemed to have regained whatever composure he had momentarily lost. He grasped Rawa by the arm and led her away, walking slowly until they reached the Portkey, where he took her shaking hand and laid it on the bottom of the upturned bucket.
When they came out on the other side, Rawa was clawing at her skin and clothes.
"A bath," she gasped. "Get me to a bath."
He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as easily and gracelessly as if she had been a sack of quinoa...hooking his left arm around her knees and holding his right hand against her buttocks...then set off across the grounds at a brisk walk. She put her arms around his midsection and rested her cheek against his back, letting his sharp, smoky odor replace the suffocating stench in her nostrils.
Once inside the castle, he brought her to a capacious room with a bath the size of a small swimming pool, with dozens of taps at either end.
"Hot," she said, ripping at her clothes. "As hot as you can make it."
She had had no strength left to Shield herself, and now felt as if thousands of horrible creatures were scurrying across her skin, looking for a place to enter. She could see nothing there, but could feel them with hideous clarity: many-legged vermin, quick and devious, probing, testing, seeking, looking for a point of weakness. In desperation, she stripped off the rest of her clothes and plunged into the steaming water, staying immersed until her lungs could stand it no longer and she had to come up for air, then immediately submerging herself again. This she did perhaps a dozen times, swimming under the water to the deepest part of the bath.
When she finally emerged from the surface of the water, Snape was squatting by the edge of the bath, holding out a small glass filled with a clear amber liquid.
"Drink this," he said.
It felt like liquid fire, and she held it in her mouth for a moment, letting it scour her lips and tongue, then swallowed. It burned going down, but the relief on her skin was almost instantaneous: the crawling sensation subsided, and she was left with only exhaustion, and a profound sense of contamination. "Thank you," she said, leaning her head back against the edge of the bath and closing her eyes.
After a while, without opening them, she said, "Snape?"
"Yes?"
"Would you bring me some clothes?"
"Certainly. What shall I do with these?"
"Burn them."
He drew his wand and dispatched the clothes in a single flash.
"Does your door open with a key or a password?" he asked.
"A password," she began, and then stopped.
He waited.
"A charm, really," she lied. "It can recognize those who have my permission to enter. Just say your name and it will admit you."
"Interesting," he said, and left.
While he was gone she took soap and a sponge and scrubbed herself until her skin was red, and then scrubbed some more. She undid her plait and washed her hair over and over again, rinsing it under the taps and then sniffing it until she was satisfied that the sulfurous odor was completely gone.
Snape returned with a small stack of folded clothes and a large towel. He set the clothes down, then walked to the edge of the bath and unfolded the towel and held it open for her. Suddenly self-conscious, she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in the towel, then leaned over and wrung out her hair.
"All right?" he said.
"Yes, I think so, thanks," she said.
"I'll wait for you in Dumbledore's office, then, shall I?" he asked. "He'll still have Potter there, I expect."
She nodded.
He left again, and she sat down on a bench and began drying, and then dressing, herself.
There was only the business with Harry to finish, and that should be simple enough. Then it would be over, this loathsome day would be done with, and she could go to bed and lie awake and ponder the sad truth that Severus Snape had looked, apparently unmoved, on her nakedness.
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Latest 25 Reviews for Soroche
75 Reviews | 5.52/10 Average
Definitely one of the more unusual stories I've read, but i liked it very much, particularly them telling sirius that they were married lol. Glad it had a happy ending also!
"You should have told me."
Told him what? That she was pregnant, or that by doing the mental-link magic she'd be flung into this dreamworld, almost not getting out of it? Or did Snape really only killed Voldemort at the cost of his own life?
Lovely story.
Beautiful story. I'm. Not usually a reader of Snape paired with and OC but Rawa was a fascinating and believable character.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Oh wow, thank you so much! Lucky for me, I wrote this story before I was ever involved in the fandom or had read any fanfic at all. If I had, I'd have known how averse people are to reading SS/OFCs because of the prevalence of Mary Sues, and I'd probably have lost my nerve and/or second-guessed every line. As it was, I toiled on in blissful ignorance.
Response from Ljpjcg (Reviewer)
No, I think it was fantastic and I'm glad you shared this. She had many facets and her life was very interesting to read about.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Oh wow, thank you so much! Lucky for me, I wrote this story before I was ever involved in the fandom or had read any fanfic at all. If I had, I'd have known how averse people are to reading SS/OFCs because of the prevalence of Mary Sues, and I'd probably have lost my nerve and/or second-guessed every line. As it was, I toiled on in blissful ignorance.
Response from Ljpjcg (Reviewer)
No, I think it was fantastic and I'm glad you shared this. She had many facets and her life was very interesting to read about.
*snip*Dear Miss Akapana,I am writing to offer you the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts for the coming academic year, as word of your extraordinary talents has reached my ear.* It is rumoured, for example, that you possess the power to compel truthfulness; such a skill would likely prove quite valuable when dealing with the garden-variety magus adolescens. I would be remiss in my duties if I failed to advise you that we have had some difficulty in keeping this position filled during the past decade: more than one of your predecessors has unfortunately lasted less than a year. However, I feel certain that if your magical abilities are as your reputation has led me to believe, you will have an excellent chance of success.If you are agreed, I will send a conveyance for you at your earliest convenience.Sincerely yours,Albus DumbledoreHeadmaster*I cannot imagine why it has reached one ear and not the other, but there you have it. HAHAHAHAHA! That is AWESOME! LOVE IT!
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Why, thank you! I tried to make it appropriately Dumbledore-y.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
It IS! So perfect! Love that bearded wizard!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Oh - and you're quite brave to introduce ayahuasca into your fic. I spent a summer in Peru and that vine is some NASTY stuff!
fascinating plan, I love how Rawa wants to believe in Snape, but no wonder she's concerned.
“Come with me, dear,” she said. “You and I need to have a talk with Dumbledore.” oh my, yes she does.
“When you sacrifice the losers on big stone pyramids,” she said. ROFL, she does have a point. Isn't there some question about whether it was the losers or the winners that were sacrificed?
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Indeed there is--but I'm taking license to decide that Rawa has inside info.
Way to get Ron ferretboy behaving. Snicker
I thought I envied the magical folk for Reparo and Evanesco, but a mosquito repelling charm? Want.I love the interaction between Rawa and Sev, her pov on his nose is hysterical and good for her sniping back at him.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
I can't tell you how pleased I am that Soroche is getting a read!
Poor Hagrid, he did ok in the mountains going to see the giants, but then he walked so there was time to adjust.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Well, also the Andes are much taller than any mountains anywhere in the UK. Cotopaxi--which is where the Yachay Wasi school is located--is 5000 metres high.Worst. Headache. Ever.
What a fascinating character your Rawa is, I'm sure she'll make quite the impression on Hogwarts.
Better. And try to remember that my name is Esnep. He's gotten to like it, hasn't he? that's so cute :o)
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
At least he's paying attention!
Brutally honest description of one approach to teaching - a female version of Snape. Given the view of professors in canon and film, Ron's observation seems dead on. Hence, establishment of authority by penalizing those who vocalize the obvious. Shades of Umbridge. This is assuming you wish to display a character defect of the protagonist. Cannot rate this chapter because it is not clear this is intended as a character defect.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Nope, not intended as a character defect at all. She's not punishing Ron for stating the obvious--she's punishing him for saying something disrespectful and inappropriate to the venue.When I was teaching high school, I would definitely have called a student out for remarking audibly that I was fuck-worthy.I don't see it as Umbridge-like at all.
Hagrid rides a flying motorcycle, but gets soroche? Perhaps the Aviation Regulatory Agencies class him as General Aviation and restrict him to below 5000 feet. Good touch with the finches and Filch. And she has brought a lovely assortment of hallucinogens and poisons. Good frisson at the end.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
I always figured Hagrid flew pretty low to the ground on the motorcycle--at any rate, nowhere near Cotopaxi's 19,000 feet.
A development chapter, but it still manages some drama. I take it the humor is that our heroine can understand American-style English.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Well, it's more that she can understand standard "textbook" versions of English, but not Hagrid's rather intense regional dialect. A bit like someone who had learned Spanish in school faced with someone speaking Argentine Lunfardo.
A powerful opening. Different.
Just found your story through Thanfiction-he drew a stunning picture from your story and I was fascinated and had to come see what it was about. This first chapter is amazing. While I am not very versed in South American lore, everything you have written so far has sounded right, has had the weight of a fully realized world and culture and is so different that what one normally finds in HP fanfiction. I love this line ____________________________________________________ What was a conveyance? she wondered. Another letter? Some kind of contract? Well, it hardly mattered—she had no intention of traveling half the world away to teach in a language that made her teeth hurt. _____________________________________________________ It made me laugh and it rings true.I love your discription of the condor, that he does not speak like a human would, that he is the voice in her head as well as his own powerful entity. And this sobered and warmed me at the same time___________________________________________________________________ Daughter, you know that no one is ever told when and where they are to die. __________________________________________________________________ Finally, I love that it costs something to use magic, to reach the spirit realm. It sounds weird that the high point of this chapter for me was her vomiting in the snow but, there you go. Wonderful chapter and I am heading on to the next with high hopes!
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Woot! I was so thrilled to get to the top of the commission queue and get that picture, but it honestly never occurred to me that it would result in more people reading my fic! Because it's an OC fic, it doesn't get a whole lot of exposure. Serendipity!I'm so glad you liked it, and thanks for the details. I researched this fic for several years before starting to write it, and the cultural and linguistic informatin is as accurate as I can possibly make it.
Lovely ending! Lovely! Original work? Plz?
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Thank you so much!Not sure I know what you're asking there?
Response from Pyttan (Reviewer)
Sorry about that; I blame my swedishness. I'm not always clear on all the english stuff. Have you got a story hidden somewhere here, that is all your own? You know, whithout borrowing the characters from the divine Rowlings? I absolutly think you are good enough, you see, and since I like your stuff I would like to read it. Yes I am shamelessly flattering you, so I can get to more of your stuff.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Ooh, flattery, my favorite. More, please!Thank you so much! I don't, at the moment, have anything finished. But I'm working on it. Are you in LJ?
Response from Pyttan (Reviewer)
LJ? No. I have no idea what that might be?
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
LiveJournal. Get thee thither.
Response from Pyttan (Reviewer)
I'm now thither, what to do now I wonder?
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Friend up. See you over there :-)
Great finish. Simple and understated, but perfect. :)
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Thank you.It's hard to let them go.
I think of the line from that song as it applies to Rowlings Severus Snape ...A man gets tied up to the ground, He gives the world its saddest sound, its saddest sound...mmmm.Lovely love story!
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Thank you so much--I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Aha! More is explained...so that's why Severus deviated from his usual custom by asking to use the pool when he requested the services of Malavi at The Wayward Wand. He was trying to recreate the scene of Rawa in the bath as closely as possible so that he could act out what he had wanted to do at the time...although it's not quite clear why he chose a cold pool instead of a hot bath. As I already noted when I left a review for The Wayward Wand, he must have chosen Malavi because she of all the women probably looks most like Rawa with olive skin and straight black hair.
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Well, the bath at Hogwarts was more like a pool in size, if not in temperature. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Scary! Hope he gets back in time! :)
Response from Hechicera (Author of Soroche)
Do you doubt him for a single moment?