Chapter One: Opening the Circle

Thank you for such an enthusiastic response for the beginning of the story! I am thrilled you are enjoying it. I must state here that this is a work of fanfiction, and the characters are the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I make no money from this story.

As with any ritual you are about to undertake, preparation is the key. Aside from all those lines which have to be memorised, there's a lot of furniture one has to navigate, so to speak. Approach it with confidence, but also realise you have to be flexible; these things rarely go according to plan.

~Chapter One: Opening The Circle - The Witchhiker's Guide to Beltane

~o0o~

Now is the darkness. Now is the pain. Now is the fear.

She will bring comfort. She will bring life. She will bring day. ~Beltane Ritual

Snow had begun to pile around his feet as he stood on the Hogsmeade Station platform, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to roll in and belch out its semi-annual cargo of cranky, tired teenagers. As soon as they arrived, Professors Snape and Granger would have the happy task of herding the students into the waiting carriages. At least thestrals didn't appear to suffer in the cold. Probably due to a lack of skin.

Professor Snape turned his back on the biting wind and cast a surreptitious Warming charm over himself and his colleague. In the short amount of time since Professor Granger had accepted a post at her former school, he had come to regard her as the one of the few bright spots in his otherwise benighted existence. Not that he would ever tell her, much less pursue her.

Undeniably attractive though she was, between her complicated love life and her insufferably chipper attitude toward everything from teaching methods to the rights of centaurs and house-elves, her life was currently a medley of social dramas. She was what his dignified Slytherin seventh years would call a crazymaker.

Even her hair was mad. He couldn't help but stare at it. Beneath her knitted hat, Professor Granger's wild hair shot off in every direction like underwater seaweed. Her mile-long scarf wound around her head and neck so many times, only her flashing, amber eyes were visible. One ragged end of the scarf had come untethered and was flapping wildly in the frigid wind. Before it could beat her to death, he reached forward and tucked the stray end back into itself, somewhere in the vicinity of her right ear.

"You look like a mummy whose bandages are coming unwrapped," he quipped.

She made a charming little growling noise. "If only. At least mummies rest in warm places," she retorted sourly. Not quite so chipper now, I see, thought Snape. Her thunderous mood made him wonder, not for the first time, if she was as fiery in other aspects of her life as well.

She gave another soft growl. "Why did we get the short straw and have to freeze our arses off waiting for the bloody train?" she grumbled rhetorically. "Why can't these bloody students arrive during the day?" Her voice was muffled under her voluminous scarf. "Merlin, I'm hungry! Why can't they come sooner..."

"Are you a witch or not?" he replied with asperity, and cast a second Warming charm over them both. "We're here because we're the only faculty under sixty and without the clout or tenure to wriggle our way out of it, and the students don't come earlier in the day because then we would have nothing to whinge about."

"I know, I know! You don't have to remind me!" For a moment, they were silent. "Thanks for the heat," she muttered sullenly. He suspected she wasn't talking about the Warming charm, which perversely improved his opinion of her personality. He decided to make an effort to draw her out. The prospect of baiting her some more, he discovered, made him feel decidedly warmer than the present temperature.

"You're usually in a much more disgustingly cheerful mood," he remarked, and noted the murderous look in her eyes. This was proving to actually be an enjoyable conversation. "What's the matter? Did your holidays not go as planned?"

He had not expected an answer; in fact, he'd banked on her not dignifying the bait with so much as a reluctant nibble. Instead, she sighed, and her breath misted out in front of her face like a grey ghost. "Oh, the holidays were great. Wonderful, in fact."

"So I see. The boundless enthusiasm gave it away."

"Right up until two days ago," she continued. "That's when Ronald made his semi-annual announcement that surely by now I'd come to my senses and was ready to jump the broom. He wants to get married, you see, and start the next batch of Weasleys on the go."

"Ah," he replied. It was all he could think to say. Privately, he'd always believed Granger and Weasley would make a fine, if annoyingly Gryffindor, couple. Good enough, at any rate. That she didn't consent to marry Weasley, though she continued to be his girlfriend year after year, was, in his opinion, part of her crazymaker ways.

"I hate when he does this," she continued. "It's always in front of witnesses. He thinks it'll be harder for me to say no if he proposes at a public gathering or family get together." She shook her head, and the stray edge of the scarf floated free again.

"So how did he ask this time?" Severus tucked in the end more firmly. "Somewhere a little more public than a family reunion?"

"Try the middle of the Quidditch Regional Finals. In Ireland. Over the Wizarding Wireless."

Severus winced. "Why don't you put Mr. Weasley out of our collective misery and just say 'No'?"

She turned to him, exasperated. "You're missing the point, Professor! I do say no! I say no every time! I don't know how many other ways to say no. I've said it in six different countries, four different languages, and twenty different scenarios! But Ron still thinks that I'm secretly pining to get married, and I'm too proud to admit it." She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know which part of 'no' he doesn't understand."

He mentally rolled his eyes and decided to descend into the madness for a moment. "Well, perhaps I can offer a suggestion. Top of my head. Oh, I don't know." He leaned toward her and spoke slowly, as if addressing a dimwitted child. "Why don't you put Mr. Weasley out of our collective misery and just say 'Yes'? Surely a wizard that tenacious is worth a second glance." He stepped back, in case the explosion was larger than the powder keg might indicate.

"I wish I wanted to say yes, Professor. Merlin knows it would make my life simpler. And a wizard like Ron deserves a loving, devoted witch. But I'm not that witch." The look she gave him was almost sad. "I know where I want to be, and it's not with Ronald."

Severus blinked at that, but the sound of the approaching train whistle spared him having to ask what she meant. Soon, they were neck-deep in the horde, students milling around them like so many black-clad sheep, aimlessly bumping into one another and generally ignoring instructions as to what to do.

As the final carriages were loading, he helped Professor Granger into the last one and took a seat beside her, renewing their Warming charm. A comfortable silence descended between them. Naturally, she felt the need to break it.

"I did plan on marrying Ron, you know. After the war. But it was too soon." She glanced away. "And now it's too late. I've moved on. I can't understand why he can't move on as well."

"Oh, really," he drawled. "Could it be because you continue to date him on holiday?"

She gave an incredulous look, then laughed. "Ron and I don't date each other anymore! We haven't been together in over six years!" She scoffed. "Where did you hear that nonsense - the papers? You of all people should never believe what you read in the Daily Prophet." She froze, her eyes wide and stricken with remorse. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"Don't be ridiculous, Granger. Point taken, however," he added, surprised in spite of himself. Merlin knew in the early days after the Battle of Hogwarts, when he had recovered from his injuries and spent time in the Lumos as the mysterious anti-hero of the war, he had been featured time and again in the gossip column for doing things... or witches... he hadn't remotely considered or were strictly out of his league anyhow. And then Rita Skeeter decided to truly get her claws out...

"So all those tales of your sordid love life were just idle gossip? Well, I won't lie: I'm dashed, Granger." He sat back with a heaving sigh of disappointment. "And here we were, hoping that our at least youngest faculty member at this monastery of a school was getting her leg over."

He was rewarded with first a gasp of surprise, then a smile. At least, he saw the corners of her rather lovely eyes crinkle in what looked like a smile. The rest was still ensconced in that horrific scarf. She gave his arm a pat. "Well, I do hate to be the destroyer of your dearly held beliefs, but I'm currently as cloistered as they come. About the closest I get to anything remotely saucy are those abstracts I checked out of the Library last month about the sex lives of banshees."

Severus gave a dismissive "Hmmph," and turned away to signal the conversation was over. He was grateful that, in the dark, she could not see the sudden heat he felt rise to his face.

As they rode along in tense silence, Hermione loosened the scarf from her face. She muttered tiredly, "I despise the end of Christmas break."

Severus grunted. "Do tell. I've always said Hogwarts would be a picnic if these bloody students didn't keep showing up. I'm not optimistic that this year will prove the exception to that rule."

She laughed unwillingly. "Well, I can't argue with you there. They come straggling in, bad tempered..."

"...bored from too much time at home with nothing to do and unable to perform magic..."

"...stuffed and bloated from holiday binge eating..."

"...and completely incapable of paying attention to anything until at least mid-March," Severus finished. Almost to himself he added, "And we poor professors with nothing more salacious to look forward to between now and then but farting pink cherubs at the Valentine's Dance."

They rode on in silence for seven more hoof beats. Granger turned to him, her face working like a rubber mask. In a strangled voice, she replied, "Blimey, Snape. I never pegged you to be such a riot."

He decided to try for imperious reproach, but found his own mouth twitching in response. "And why, pray tell, Professor Granger, would that be?"

She had lost any pretence of trying not to laugh. "Well, are we looking forward to pink cherubs that fart, or when we fart, pink cherubs blast out of our backsides?"

"You really must learn to glean information from inflection, Professor."

He could feel the carriage shaking with her laughter. "Either way the visual image is pretty fecking funny, but surely you see my point: it pays to be specific." Her laughter bubbled up in a silly giggle, until she was wiping her eyes. "Farting pink cherubs. Oh, that's going to stay with me all through dinner."

For some reason, that made him feel better. Warmer, at least. He had the strongest urge to join in her laughter, but there were students in earshot. "True, Professor Granger. I stand corrected."

Severus, lad, you've been through a lot in your forty-eight years on this earth, he told himself. I think the term 'hard cheese' pretty much describes you to a Knut. Crappy home life, dismal parents, hand-me-down robes. Ridiculed, sorted into the most snobbish, elitist House in school, bullied, fallen in with the wrong crowd, forced to murder your mentor, almost killed by a giant snake.

Pack it up, Sev, he continued his inner monologue, while he reached for his second glass of wine. It could be worse. You could be dining on stale bread and water in an oceanfront room in sunny Azkaban.

Instead, he was sitting at the Head Table at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, having finished an excellent meal, sitting beside a pretty little witch, thinking about farting pink cherubs (the ones that fart...not performing the act himself) and speculating on her love life, or lack of same.

As he looked out over the sea of students that were reeling from dinner and dessert, he risked a glance at Granger, who was chatting amicably to Pomona Sprout, her face animated and bright. After his cherub quip, she had considerably improved from the grumpy little witch traipsing through the frozen slush earlier in the evening. As her hair curled and fluffed around her face, Severus allowed himself a moment to enjoy her sharp wit, her deft, able hands, the slim column of her throat, her pert, tantalising breasts...Alright, that's enough. You'll look a right tit should Minerva request everyone to stand for a toast right now. Well, you'll look like a right perv in any case. Think of something else, man!

In the ten years since he had miraculously survived Nagini's bite, Severus had been vilified, acquitted, ostracised, shunned, sneered at and attacked, both verbally and physically. Finally, he'd been exonerated, after which he had hoped for a quiet life. Instead, he got a sullen one.

Oh, he had friends. On the occasional night when the Firewhisky was flowing and the faculty oozing goodwill, Severus would himself admit that he was treated well by some of his peers. Minerva McGonagall had tried her best to make his re-emergence into Wizarding society a positive one. Hell, even the Boy-Who-Lived-Yet-Again had stepped up to the wicket to cloak Severus in his sincere love-me-love-my-dog fame and beneficence.

Severus took another sip of wine and met the unfriendly stares of the students. Whoever said it was better to be feared than loved must have been a teacher, he thought. Only by the strictest intimidation and fear-mongering was he able to keep students in line, up to and including his own Slytherins. And that took too much energy for what it was worth. At the end of many a night, he would fall into bed, exhausted just from being frightening all day. I don't know how Tom Riddle kept it up, I really don't.

And it might have gotten easier, had Lady Luck been willing to give old Toby Snape's boy a break. Hermione Granger had joined the faculty eighteen months before, fresh from her spectacular stint as Potions Mistress at Beauxbatons. Severus had tried to show willing. He had been polite and quiet, and held his temper, even when she pestered the hell out of him on matters of Potions. She brought a fresh, lively approach to the subject, merrily allowing her first years to blow up half the laboratory, then sending the staff into peals of laughter about it in the lounge the next day. Only Severus remained unmoved, although, he had to admit, there were times he had to hide behind the Daily Prophet or leave the room to hide his smile. It wouldn't do to encourage her.

She wore deliciously high heels and, when not teaching, favoured tight Muggle t-shirts and jeans which set off her lovely arse to perfection. Crazymaker she might be, but she was easy on the eye. And she was nice to Severus. Far too chipper and optimistic in the mornings, of course, but at least she never acted judgmental when he dragged himself to her office asking for a Hangover Potion. She just grabbed the nearest one and said, "Bottoms up!" in that insufferably cheerful way that made him want to spin her around and bend her bottoms up over her desk...

He groaned inwardly. Too many of his thoughts were segueing into that territory lately. What time over the Christmas break he hadn't spent fantasising about Granger he'd spent chastising himself for it. Another one completely out of your league, man. Better to lust after her from afar, where he could remain unnoticed, than to make a complete pranny out of himself in public again. Hell, he'd mooned over Lily Evans for twenty years and look where that had got him.

Of course, that didn't stop him from thinking about screwing his courage to the sticking place and asking Professor Granger out for a drink and dinner. He'd thought up at least three different all-but-foolproof scenarios where he could just casually slip into the conversation some innocuous reason to invite her to the Broomsticks.

But he should have known better. Just when Wizarding Britain had stopped baying for his blood and demanding his head on a silver platter in the Atrium of the Ministry, Rita Skeeter had decided she needed a new villa in Spain, and wrote a tell-all book about him entitled Severus Snape: Nobody's Hero. Dear, dear Rita. Severus devoutly hoped there were special demons in hell for yellow journalists, and they'd already got Rita's suite ready for her.

He had been quietly dismissive at first. The public knew what Rita was; surely they wouldn't fall for this particular brand of defamation. Unfortunately, Rita knew her public just as intimately: it was a voracious beast that needed feeding, and she had the sense to feed it raw meat by the book load.

If anyone had considered Severus the least bit dodgy before, they needed only to consult the book to confirm their every suspicion. Within its tawdry pages, he was portrayed as the sort of bounder heretofore only found villainously twirling his moustache while tying heroines to railroad tracks. He found himself longing for the days when he was just considered a greasy git and an undercover vampire.

Soon Aurors had to be called in to monitor Severus' DADA classes in case of attacks. He was pelted with garbage in Diagon Alley. Howlers were sent to him by the owl-load. School had to be frequently delayed because every manner of Weasley Wizard Wheezes that could spit, smoke, puke, burst into flame or turn someone chartreuse was thrown at him, usually during mealtime when the cowardly little shits could hide amongst their fellow miscreants.

Humiliated, Severus went to Minerva to resign. He gave his reasons as not wanting to disrupt the routine of the school, but in reality he was sick of it...the embarrassment, the feeling of being misunderstood still, the hurt of his sore heart. What must he do to prove himself worthy? He was tired of trying to answer that question. Better to leave than to be stuck pondering why he would never be, had never been accepted.

Minerva refused him, knowing, as did he, that Hogwarts was the only real safe haven for him. "This will blow over, my boy," she said, siphoning off a horde of slime from his cloak. "Do not let that wretched woman win!"

"It's not her winning that bothers me, Minerva," Severus barked in reply, cleaning the snot-green gunk out of his hair. "The Marauders weren't this bad."

The Headmistress was unmoved. "You just leave it to me," she said, beady eyes narrowed and predatory.

Minerva had not been called the Order of the Phoenix's bludger for nothing. True to her nature, she set out to resolve the problem in typical Gryffindor fashion...with a sledgehammer. She sent a blanket w-mail Howler to every student's parents, informing them that the next time any professor was attacked, and the culprit protected by his fellows, every House point would be removed from every House. If the students wanted to gang up on their innocent professor, then the school would gang up on them.

The only positive note of this debacle to emerge was Professor Granger, who could not bear to see a homesick student cry, a third year struggle through a crush or a seventh year break out in boils over their N.E.W.T.s. She took it upon herself to be Severus' new best friend. In spite of their shared past, the young witch had decided to let bygones be bygones and became his staunchest ally, telling anyone who would listen that she had always respected Severus Snape as a teacher and a person, and that they were the most ungrateful bunch of hoodlums for not acknowledging him as a hero. Further, she stated emphatically that Rita Skeeter was scum of the first order, and if anyone had a problem with that, to see her during her office hours, Monday, Wednesdays and Thursdays from 3:42 to 5:17 p.m.

And Severus had to admit that, after a very odd, one-sided conversation he witnessed one afternoon between the two witches while he himself skulked in a dark corner in Diagon Alley, Rita had backed off a little bit on the vitriol. Her book still sold well, but she abruptly stopped promoting it with such aggression. He really should find out what Granger had done to merit this new attitude, but he never seemed to get around it. It would mean bringing up the whole, sordid subject of the book in a conversation, and he avoided that like Voldemort's breath.

Had it not felt so much like pity, Severus might have enjoyed having Granger for a champion. Unfortunately, it would also force him to admit that his feelings for her might edge a little beyond the respect for a fellow colleague, much less a former student. The irritatingly smug swot he had once sneered at had been tempered by war and maturity. She was attractive, brainy, sweet, fierce, protective and funny in spite of the baggage that she still carried around. She also filled out a set of dress robes like a thoroughbred race horse did a racing form.

In fact, she was everything that had ever fired him up since he was old enough to understand the real purpose of that lump of skin flopping around between his legs. But a witch like Hermione Granger... well, a witch with Hermione Granger's good sense and perfect arse and luscious tits wouldn't see a touchy, Northern, increasingly middle-aged wizard like Severus as any sort of catch now, would she? What on earth could he offer her if she turned down the likes of Ron 'Quidditch-Ambassador-Playboy-Extraordinaire' Weasley on the grounds of not being good enough?

As if she mentally heard him ogling her bum and itching to give her bra a squeeze, Granger turned to Severus and gave him a kind smile. "Enjoying your dinner, Professor?"

He inclined his head and scowled in return. "I would have if we weren't surrounded by this din."

Her smile seemed to grow sunnier and sadder at the same time. "Cheer up, Severus. It's the beginning of a new school term. Let's make a pact to make the best of it. Who knows what pleasant surprises it will bring?"

He scoffed. "A dose of dragon pox on the entire student body would be a nice start."

She looked at him, shocked, then grinned mischievously. "First cherubs, now dragon pox. I'm starting to suspect you might be up to something, Professor. Should Fred Weasley be worried about you giving him a run for his money?"

Severus snorted. "Hardly."

Granger's smile never wavered. "You're wicked, that's what you are, Severus." With what could only be considered a flirtatious little wiggle of her head, she added, "I can see I'm going to have to keep an eye on you this term."

Severus felt his face go numb. What in the name of Merlin's rotting rectum was that supposed to mean?

As Severus gaped at his former student, Minerva tapped on her water glass and rose to her feet. "May I have your attention, please?" The students settled down, and waited for the usual speech. Some were already dozing at their seats.

"I have an announcement that I believe will be met with interest by both you and your professors." She gave a quick glance around the Head table. Severus looked at Granger, eyebrows on the rise, but she shrugged, as clueless as he.

Minerva looked out on the sea of faces. "As you know, we are approaching our tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Many friends and loved ones fought in that war, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. Many of your professors fought, and fought bravely."

Severus could feel Granger's eyes on him, and he forced himself to remain staring straight ahead. If he turned to see tears in her eyes, he would not be accountable for his actions.

"As time passed," Minerva continued, "it was hoped that the years following the demise of Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters would see a revival in the Wizarding community...a return to the traditions and customs that we suspended during those dark times. But we've not advanced as far as I would like, and the Board of Governors agrees.

"Since Hogwarts has ever been the beacon of learning and achievement for Wizarding Britain, it was decided that we would be the first to participate in a Ministry-approved initiative to return our world back to the ways that sustained us Magical folk for centuries. To do this, we will be making a change in the school schedule. The Spring break will be extended for an additional three weeks."

She waited for the predictable cheering to die down. "However, the end of school will also be extended for one month, during which time Hogwarts will play host to something very special."

Minerva stood serenely at the dais and waited for the murmuring around her to die down. "This May, we will be hosting the sacred festival of Beltane, one of the most important events of the Pagan calendar, complete with all the traditional rites and rituals. There hasn't been a Beltane festival here at Hogwarts in over one hundred and fifty years!

"Your Professors will participate as the revelers in the magic circle, and the celebrations will culminate with a traditional dance and feast for everyone. To stress the Ministry's commitment to the initiative's success, this will be carried over the Wizarding Wide Web in a special broadcast.

"In addition, we are honoured to have Magister Cornelius Honeyclutch join us in April. He is a renowned expert in the field of Druidic Studies, and he will be giving a series of lectures on Pagan festivals in your History of Magic classes. There will be a fieldtrip to Stonehenge for the N.E.W.T. level students who wish to participate in the festival as stewards. We will also celebrate with the Muggle version of the Maypole for our younger students."

The buzz coming from the long tables sounded much more enthusiastic now. "The Ministry will be sending leaflets out to your families next month on how to host their own Beltane celebrations in conjunction with our broadcast, so we can experience a community feeling throughout the country, not just here at school.

"We hope that by reinstating our magical rituals and customs, we can get back to the basics of our special world, where dark and light live together in balance. No longer should the dark be feared because of our past, but embraced as part of our magical makeup.

"Should this prove to be a success, it will be expanded to a much larger venue next year. There has even been talk of having an International Beltane Ritual right here in Wizarding Britain, so I want us to be the vanguard for this exciting venture. I know I can count on you to help make this a complete a total success. Hogwarts, the world is watching!"

The room erupted in wild applause, and Minerva stopped to give them all a smile of approval. "We'll be discussing this with you at a later date. But for now, off you go, get a good night's sleep, and good luck with your classes tomorrow."

Minerva turned back to the stunned faces at the Head Table. "Meeting. Faculty Lounge. Ten minutes, please." With that, she swept from the Great Hall to supervise the students.