Retribution

~ Retribution ~

~

Round about the cauldron go;

In the poisoned entrails throw.

~

The centuries-old Shakespearean verse echoed in Hermione's head, repeating itself rather annoyingly as she tossed in yet another ingredient and resumed counting stir-strokes. It was long, tedious work developing and brewing this potion. Her and Severus' first two attempts at brewing it had failed; it had mysteriously coagulated just after adding one of the ingredients. The second time it happened, Severus had grabbed his cloak and stalked out of their quarters, mumbling something about "thieving apothecaries," only to return a couple hours later with another vial of the hard-to-get toad venom.

~

Toad, that under cold stone

Boil thou first i' the charmèd pot.

~

They were now past the previous point of coagulation. Hermione had announced the milestone just before she was about to add the four drops of venom, and Severus had come to stand over her shoulder, glaring ominously as though if it didn't work this time, he could somehow hex the apothecary-in-question in absentia. Luckily for the man, who had undoubtedly been threatened within an inch of his life, the potion continued brewing without a hitch.

There had been much discussion between Severus and Hermione over the modifications that needed to be made for this particular potion. Its base was a rather simple Deflating Draught. Then, there were the slight complications of making it last for a specific length of time and be attuned only to a specific user...or in this case, users. Severus had consulted the Dark Arts section of his personal library, but even though she admitted that Harry and Ron most definitely deserved it, she refused to incorporate the Dark Arts in the brewing process.

Not that she was necessarily above utilizing the Dark Arts when absolutely necessary, she told Severus, soothing his ruffled feathers, it was just that she felt all other avenues should first be exhausted. Plus, she was a little leery of bad karma, however Trelawney-ish that sounded. In the end, what they came up with was Dark Arts-inspired, but could never be traced back to such, for which Hermione was extremely grateful. She would never have aborted the project, but knowing that it couldn't come back to legally bite her on the arse was a huge bonus.

~

For a charm of powerful trouble,

Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

~

Hermione glanced down the two-page, double-columned sheet of paper while the cauldron boiled for an indeterminate number of minutes, waiting for the brew to change to a dull-grey shade of green. With her wand, she checked off the ingredients that had already been added, little red checkmarks popping up next to each one. Smiling, she turned the page over and checked off a few more, signifying that she was officially past the halfway point.

One look at the potion, still bubbling over a lowered flame, showed her that the bright green hue was losing its luster, and by her best estimation, she had about five minutes before it turned the proper shade of grey-green. Carefully, she checked the ingredients lined up on her work table, making sure that they were in the proper order all the way down to the final two ingredients...the ones that signified that Dark Arts texts had been consulted: an animated photo of Harry and Ron, kissing, taken surreptitiously only a week ago by Severus as the two men were leaving a night of drinking at The Magic Brew, and a single drop of baboon's blood that was to be added as Hermione waved her wand over the mixture and gave voice to an obscure and rarely used Continuity Charm, modified for their purposes.

~

Double, double, toil and trouble;

Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

~

The little crystal phials were hypnotizing, catching the flame beneath the cauldron, the yellow-orange of the flame splitting off into deeper reds and harsher violets as it looked through the glass. She looked up and noticed the greyish-greenish hue of the potion and jerked to full consciousness. With heart pounding, she quickly grabbed the next phial with its carefully measured ingredient and dumped it in, counting strokes of the spoon and blindly gripping the next phial in her hand. The next few additions would go by in quick succession, and she couldn't make an error at this critical point. It wouldn't be long now.

Her face settled in fierce concentration, her hands a whirl of add-stir, and she didn't even notice when Severus entered their quarters through his office entrance, having finished classes for the day. He was very familiar with this particular look...he had witnessed it many times before. It seemed to be something she had been born with, a harsh mask of complete absorption in whatever she was doing, a look that said, "Interrupt me and you'll be singing soprano in the boys' choir."

Having no intention on becoming a eunuch, Severus quietly set a stack of parchment down and sidled to stand quietly behind her, making note of where she was in the brewing process. He smiled faintly as her hand gravitated to the precise location of the next crystal-encased ingredient while her eyes remained riveted on the bubbling liquid and her stir-spoon. It proved oneness with her surroundings, a dedication to her work, and he was extremely proud of her, both as her ex-professor and as her lover.

The phials were steadily diminishing now as ingredients were poured consecutively with a mere two or three strokes in between. He admired the steadiness of her hand, the ease with which she reached for the ingredients, and how not even once did she break a sweat like he never failed to do on the more complicated potions. And then, she was down to the last two ingredients: the photo and the baboon's blood. She looked over her shoulder at him.

"We're there," was all she said, not in the least bit surprised that he was standing behind her, not even questioning how long he had been there.

"Do you have the spell memorized?" he asked, even though he knew it was a ridiculous question, and stepped forward to take the phial of the single drop of baboon's blood. He would add this ingredient since she needed to be performing the spell simultaneously.

"Yes. I'm ready."

Hermione drew out her wand with one hand, and with the other, she picked up the picture of her passionately entwined ex-fiancé and ex-friend and tossed it in. The photo curled in upon itself, succumbing to the will of the potion, which boiled passionately on its flame.

Taking one look at Severus, she watched as he tilted the phial and the final ingredient fell in slow motion toward the dissolving photo. At first contact, her wand sliced the air, and she called out, "Coactum mille nongentos septum dies!"

~

Cool it with a baboon's blood,

Then the charm is firm and good.

~

The potion had cooled to a slightly opaque, gelatinous substance. There had been some discussion between the two co-conspirators as to what form the final product would take. It would have a direct influence as to the delivery method of their revenge. When Hermione saw the results, she couldn't help but smile. She had...of course...come up with several ideas based on the various possible outcomes, and this had been one of her favorites. The substance looked exactly like hand lotion. She reached out with a finger to test if it had the expected consistency.

Severus slapped her hand away and barked out, "Are you mad? What if...just humor me...what if it ended up affecting you?"

She smirked mischievously at him. "That is why I am the one testing it and not you."

He quirked an eyebrow at her and then realization dawned. Even if the potion ended up not being cued specifically to Harry and Ron, she was a girl. The only thing it would end up "deflating" for the next five years, two months and three weeks would be her swollen ankles acquired from standing too long on her feet.

Hermione smiled satisfactorily and stuck her finger in the lotion, swirling it between her forefinger and thumb, rubbing a little into the backside of her hand. Then she smelled it and screwed up her nose.

"Well, it doesn't exactly smell like any lotion I'd want to buy, but it certainly feels like it. It even feels a little greasy once I rub it into my skin. Oh, I hope it doesn't stain my clothes...."

"You're not going to wear it, so I don't know why you're worried. Go wash it off." Severus pointed to a utility sink in the corner.

Hermione did as she was told and grinned as she showed Severus the back of her hand. He came over to inspect it and frowned at her in confusion.

"See how the water is beading where I applied the lotion? It has the properties of oil." She waited, but he still didn't seem to understand. "Of an oil-based lubricant?" she stressed.

"Ah ... I see," Severus replied, smirking. And then, he repeated a few seconds later, his smirk turning into a feral smile, "Oh, I see!"

"Yes." She returned his smile. "And I know exactly how it will find its way into their hands...."

~

By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes. ¹

~

"Hermione!" Ginny hugged her friend tightly. "Oh, I've been so worried about you. I heard what happened and..." She stopped at her friend's doubting glance. "Okay, well, I admit it is entirely one-sided, but I really want to hear your side of things. It's probably a lot more accurate."

"Depends on what you've heard," Hermione said, returning Ginny's exuberant hug.

"We-ell," Ginny sing-songed, "what Harry's said and what I know are two different things." At Hermione's raised eyebrow, she continued. "You know how I just cannot stand being left out of the loop. I had to know what was going on, and Harry and Ron really are terrible liars."

Ginny gave a weak smile, and Hermione took pity on her. "You know about what's going on between Harry and Ron then."

It was a statement, not a question, and purely rhetorical. Hermione didn't need any response; instead, she watched as Ginny's brave façade broke down and held her arms out to receive her tearful friend.

"Oh, Hermione. It's so awful what he did to you...what they did to you. I just cannot believe they would betray you like that, and that it had been going on for so long...."

"Yes," Hermione responded, comforting her friend when she should have been the one receiving the comfort. Strangely enough, Hermione realized that she didn't feel the need to be comforted and smiled a little at that fact.

Ginny suddenly pushed her friend away, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. "Oh! Look at me, blubbering all over you, when I should be the strong one. I cannot believe I am the one crying on your shoulder. I just have been holding it in for so long, ever since I found out."

"No, I..."

"Do you want tea? Come in and sit down. Tell me all about it. Wait, let me put on the teakettle." Ginny swished her wand dangerously in the direction of the kitchen. "There. Sit down, sit down." Ginny plopped on the plush, over-soft sofa, patted the space beside her, and took a breath as Hermione obeyed. "Or maybe you don't feel like talking about it? It must be too painful. I simply can't imagine..."

"Ginny!" Hermione interrupted before her friend could get going to where she wouldn't be able to get in a word edgewise any longer. "It's not too painful ... anymore, anyway. I'm angry, especially after the way I found out."

"Right," Ginny said. "After Professor Snape sent you that owl, telling you that Harry was having an affair..."

"What?! No no no, it wasn't like that at all!" Hermione gaped at her friend, incredulous and even more angry at Harry and Ron, if that were even possible. "I came home early from work and walked in on Harry and Ron in...in...in bed." There, she said it out loud for the first time since she confided in Severus that night so long ago.

Ginny gasped and paled, which was exactly the reaction Hermione was going for.

"You do know I've been seeing Severus, right?" Well, of course she did, but Hermione waited for her to nod, which she did with closed lips and wide eyes. "He saved my life that night after I ... found out about Harry and Ron. He took me in. He doesn't demand anything of me, and he is everything I could ask for in a man."

Ginny nodded her head continually as Hermione described Severus' qualities, not only in agreement, but letting Hermione know...abeit silently...that she supported her in her choice of a man. Good, Hermione thought. Things were going as planned.

"I don't know if you can imagine how angry I am. How I was betrayed by both my fiancé and my best friend. I've lost two people who were very close to my heart, my two best friends." Hermione looked down at her hands folded in her lap, grasping each other until their knuckles shone bright. She whispered, "It's almost worse than if they had died ... because they can go on, taking pleasure from my pain."

"Yes, yes, of course." Ginny patted Hermione's hands very Molly-like, which made Hermione want to smile. Though she didn't dare; she didn't want Ginny to think for one moment that she was over what had happened. She wasn't, but it didn't hurt to play the part to its fullest.

"They just go on, day after day, as if nothing happened, except that they can enjoy their freedom now that I know."

"Exactly!" Ginny said and levitated the teakettle over to the coffee table. Hermione waited while she poured it between the two cups and accepted hers with slightly shaking hands. Completely unplanned. Nice touch.

"I ... I just can't move on...be totally happy, you know...until they feel the pain that I feel, the pain that they caused me, the pain that I still feel every single day."

Ginny set down her teacup and exclaimed, "And so they should! If only there was something we could do to make them feel it, though. But I'm not sure there's something ... oh, I don't know, appropriate, something that would make them realize the injustice of it all...."

Perfect.

"Oh, but I do," was all Hermione had to say to see the mischievous glint return to Ginny's previously teary eyes.

"Ron still has that annoying habit of ... borrowing things from your flat?"

Ginny nodded over the lip of her teacup.

"Can you place this someplace where he'd be sure to find it?"

Hermione produced a carefully packaged and magically labeled tube of lotion from her purse. Ginny reached out and took it from Hermione, glanced at the label, and smirked.

"Ellerby's Emollients – Luscious Lovemaking Lubricant." Ginny snorted tea through her nose. Her laughter was the hysterical sort of someone who had recently been crying. Hermione had to fetch Ginny a tissue from the bathroom, both for the tea and the tears that had reemerged and just wouldn't stop.

"Oh. Oh, that's too good. You thought of this?" Ginny said, finally calming down.

Hermione nodded. "Well, Severus and I both did, actually. We brewed it. Sort of altered a ... erm, well, a Deflating Draught to serve our purposes. Let's just say that it's keyed for Harry and Ron, and it should make them pay for as long as Harry made me suffer."

"Ingenious," Ginny said appreciatively. "Absolutely perfect. I couldn't have thought of a better way to get back at those two prats. So this will..."

"As soon as it comes into contact with any part of their skin, it will make a certain part of their anatomy ... well, deflate; rather, it will make it impossible for them to get an ... an erection."

"And this will last for how long?" Ginny giggled, partly at her friend's discomfort at saying the word erection.

"Oh, for a very long time. However long Harry strung me along, making me think that we were going to get married. However long Harry tortured me with his incredibly awful so-called 'lovemaking' skills."

"And, of course, this doesn't affect either of them feeling aroused, even though that part of them won't work," Ginny confirmed.

"Right. Believe me, they will feel the pain of every day of hell they put me through." Now it was Hermione's turn to smile.

"I know exactly the place to put this so Ron will find it," Ginny answered, and she got up eagerly to put the plan in motion.

Hermione returned to her and Severus' quarters, emotionally drained. It was funny how anger had a way of doing that to her, even more so than a broken heart. Still, it was a very fruitful evening. Everything went as she and Severus had planned. He had coached her, telling her that even though her words may be truth, her body language and her emotions must follow suit. That meant even though she had gotten past the heartbreak, she must make Ginny believe that she hadn't in order to make her empathize and want to participate in the plan wholeheartedly.

After an argument or two, after which they had thoroughly made up, Hermione could see Severus' point of view. After all, it wasn't like she was lying.

Severus emerged from his lab, wiping his hands on his potion-stained apron. Hermione smiled, exhaustedly tossed her cloak upon the sofa, and crossed the room into Severus' embrace.

"How'd it go?" he asked, a little unsure at her less-than-exuberant entrance.

"Successfully. She promised to send me an owl the moment Ron steals the lotion. And a second owl once she gets confirmation that it has worked." Hermione unfolded herself from his arms and collapsed onto the sofa. "But I had no idea how exhausting that would be."

"Not that she needed any convincing, I'm sure. You let her know everything we talked about? Made sure you didn't talk about anything else? No girl talk?"

"No girl talk." Hermione smiled, knowing how much 'girl talk' annoyed him. "And no, she needed no convincing. I got the feeling that she wants revenge as much as I do." She laughed half-spiritedly. Rubbing the bridge of her nose with the heel of her hand, she tried to dispel some of the weariness.

"It looks as though you're ready for bed," Severus said, leaning over to massage her shoulders in just the right place.

"Mmm..." she answered and tilted her head first this way and then that, letting his fingers magically erase the tension that gripped every single tendon. "Bed is the only place I want to be."

"Is it now?" he breathed into her ear, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

His lips whispered against the curve of her ear, nearly touching but not quite, so that she could feel their presence but was left wanting for their touch. Slowly, they slipped down her neck, leaving a moist trail of warmth upon her tender skin, until finally they tasted the sweet juncture of her neck and shoulder.

She felt lazily aroused. When Severus slid an arm beneath the crook of her knees and lifted her, she cuddled against his chest and clasped her hands behind his neck. For a moment, their eyes met, and she was comforted by the softness she found there. She knew exactly where she stood with Severus, and that in itself was more than she had ever had with Harry.

Severus eased her upon the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb the mood that had settled between them, and Hermione shifted her body, burrowing into the down comforter, reveling in the softness that surrounded her both in mind and body. For a brief moment, Severus stood above her, contemplating, and then slowly pulled his wand from his sleeve. It seemed to move in slow motion, each flick of his wrist flirtatious, each swish of the wood sensual. No words were spoken, yet the movement of the spell she knew, and her breath caught in anticipation as the wand stilled. Suddenly, Severus stood before her nude, and she felt the breath of a chill breeze as her skin became exposed to the air.

His body was like a fine marble. Completely smooth, except where short clusters of curls dared to grow across his pectoral muscles. Nearly flawless, except where scars stood out like veins. Each imperfection was perfection in Hermione's mind.

Her eyes traveled from the tight buds of his not-quite-camouflaged nipples down to the pillar that stood out valiantly between his thighs. Skin flushed and eyes filmed over with lust as she thought exactly what sorts of pleasure that particular appendage would visit upon her.

Languidly, he moved to recline beside her, keeping a hair-breadth of space between their bodies, which only made her ache for more. But as much as she wanted to feel his skin against hers, there was something so incredibly arousing about nearly, but not quite, feeling his body touch hers. Instead of closing that last millimeter of space between them, she remained still, wanting him to pleasure her at his own pace, wanting him to do all the work.

It was the touch of a single finger that satisfied her desire and simultaneously lit the fire. A finger that began at her lips, tracing their fine contour, slid down her neck and through the valley between her breasts, traveled across her stomach, and swirled around the dip of her navel. Finally, his hand spread out, and the heel of his palm pressed against the base of her pubic bone. Fingers sought and found their prize, the Portkey to his lover's pleasure.

Her back arched off the bed, pressing her mound hard against his hand. She moaned as fingers circled and stroked and pressed and delved. Willingly, her body accepted his familiar touch, and although her body responded involuntarily, it wasn't against her will. Especially when she ultimately lost control, teetering over the edge, throbbing short, tight and quick. Content, but not yet satisfied.

In between her throes of passion, she felt the tip of his erection settle against her entrance and then plunge within as her muscles momentarily relaxed. It felt so good: the feel of his body against hers, lubricated by a light sheen of perspiration; the sensation of his rock-hardness thrusting deep within her, surrounded by the small tremors of her body that wouldn't abate; the awareness that this man loved her and she loved him more than she had loved any other man in her entire life.

Suddenly, she became keenly aware of everything, as if a bright light had been turned on and she was seeing everything clearly for the first time. Severus Snape was the man she was destined to be with. At that precise moment of clarity, his lust-laden eyes met hers, and in them she saw unadulterated love.

It was as though a burst of electricity passed between the two of them, and for an instant, time paused in its unforgiving cycle, allowing the pair to see each other, to know each other more intimately than ever before. A heartbeat. An expelled breath. An arrested drop of moisture falling from his eyelash and bursting upon her cheek.

Time slid into place as they fell over the precipice together, wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies connecting and reconnecting, trying to make their love last just a little bit longer. In the end, as they slowly wafted down to earth, the only movement between the two was their lips meeting in soft, love-exhausted kisses ... until they finally fell asleep in each other's embrace.

Harry entered his flat, worn out and fit to be tied from the constant demands of work. More than anything, he needed some relief from the stress that had been building up since seven o'clock that morning. He had just thrown a handful of Floo powder into the grate when Ron had walked into the room, hair sleep-tousled and morning erection very prominent. He tried to smile a good morning in Ron's direction, but he feared that it looked more like a grimace as he tried to control his body's response.

Floo deposited, Harry stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off the inescapable soot, and realized that the flat was dark. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn't totally dark, but that the flicker of candlelight beckoned to him from just around the corner. Setting down his satchel and the stack of papers that always accompanied him home from work, he followed the trail of candles that lined the hallway.

The trail ended at the partially closed door to his bedroom. With one finger, all five senses on high alert, he slowly pushed it open. What he saw could sustain him for a lifetime, he thought, as his eyes soaked in the sight of his lover lying on the bed, waiting for him.

The candlelight flickered, making Ron's hair look as though it were alive, a light of its own, beckoning to Harry to come and make love to him. Harry couldn't resist the call. His eyes drank in Ron's naked form, from the flicker of his orange-red hair to the thickness of his shaft that waited eagerly for some attention.

Harry's fingers flicked open the buttons of his shirt faster than they ever had before. His trousers and underwear were discarded like the nuisances that they were. In a matter of seconds, Harry had joined Ron on the bed, and their naked bodies joined and rubbed together.

It wasn't long before they were equally breathless, skin flushed, erections large and shining with the moisture that signaled their desire. It only took one look between the pair for them to know it was impossible to wait any longer.

From the bedside table, Ron picked up a tube of lotion. Harry's eyes were so unfocussed, all he could make out were the words Luscious Lovemaking Lubricant, which sounded positively perfect to him. He positioned himself on the bed while Ron squeezed a generous amount on his hand, lubricating himself while inserting lotion-covered fingers inside of Harry in preparation of the assault that was to come.

But when Ron moved to complete the act of their lovemaking, he realized suddenly that he was no longer hard. He rubbed his shrunken member against the crease of Harry's arse, wanting him in the worst way and completely confused at his sudden deflation.

Harry turned to see what was taking Ron so long, and reached down to begin fondling his own erection, feeling very impatient. But when all his hand found was an uncharacteristic limpness, he knelt up and turned around to find Ron in a similar predicament. Confusion was printed across both of their faces. Then, simultaneously they paled.

Ron grabbed the discarded tube of lotion and looked at it closely. Ellerby's Emollients? He'd never heard of that brand before. It was the claim, Luscious Lovemaking Lubricant, that had attracted his interest when he had taken it from Ginny's flat that morning. And then suddenly, it dawned on him what must have happened. Harry seemed to have come to the same conclusion as well.

When their eyes met, all they could say was, "Hermione," and groan.

¹ Verses from Macbeth, Act 4, Scene 1

A/N: A special thanks to cocoachristy, who was my final eyes on this chapter. Without her, you'd have all been witness to some embarrassing foibles.

And another round of thanks goes to Ashley, who helped me with the bit of Latin for the spell.