Here Comes the Snake, Part II

Here Comes the Snake, Part Two

Disclaimer: Last night I had this truly awesome dream where me, Robert DeNiro and a friend of mine tried to get struck by lightning in New York City, then he (DeNiro) started zapping pedestrians with this Tesla coil thingy and- what? No, I don't own them at all.

"Tried to hit me in the balls, but he missed."

-Gnocco, Thomas Harris's Hannibal

******

By midway through second period Potions, he was desperate. Despite the personal wards rivaling that of Gringotts that he'd erected, everything pointy and painful seemed to gravitate unerringly toward his doomed genitals. Furthermore, he was no closer to solving this sick mystery than before, as his contact in Gryffindor, the only logical haven of his assailant, had not found anyone who harbored the unholy wrath necessary for the horrifying attacks against him.

His first class had consisted of third-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, a dangerous combination under the circumstances. The class was advanced enough to necessitate several hazardous ingredients and tools, and the students were either entirely too clever for their own well being or too incredibly dense to be trusted with such substances, despite what Dumbledore may insist.

There had been a particularly nasty incident involving a broken glass stirring rod and bubbling dragon bile that had left a burn on his upper hip midway through the period when he'd been foolish enough to make his usual rounds of the classroom. Octavianus Parker, a snot-nosed Ravenclaw cursed with Know-It-All syndrome of the Granger variety without the benefit of genius, had actually disputed his expertise concerning the Aetus Intercapedo draught, distracting his attention from the Hufflepuff side of the classroom. His guard was down from the respite he'd been granted since the beginning of the class, so he was caught unprepared when the contents of half the cauldrons in the room exploded in his direction, deftly avoiding all the students while depositing boiling liquids containing Merlin knows what on the bottom half of his robes. He was able to spell the melting fabric off of himself before the toxic liquids soaked completely through his clothing, but a flask containing dragon bile and the disputed stirrer slipped under his defenses, shattering against Parker's desk and sending glass shards and hot acid toward him.

Snape had managed to avoid most of it, but the jagged broken edge of the glass rod sliced through layers of clothing before digging into his hip. The pain pushed him far beyond screaming stage, and his voice rasped from the effort of restraining himself from tearing his entire class limb from limb.

"A hundred points from Ravenclaw, and two hundred from Hufflepuff. You now owe me twelve feet of parchment on the correct method of brewing this potion. Parker, you have detention with Filch until you no longer have the urge to question my authority. Class dismissed!"

He'd hobbled over to his desk and collapsed in his chair, casting a room-wide "evanesco" before summoning an antidote to the bile and a bottle of firewhisky. He carefully extracted the glass, then applied the potion to his burnt skin. Subsequent to taking several large swigs of the whisky, he locked every ingredient and mildly risky implement out of student reach from the safety of his desk. When his next class entered, they were treated to the sight of a mildly sloshed Potions master ensconced behind his desk. He assigned them a review exercise that was nowhere near his usual standard (far too much of the class was able to complete it), and a relatively peaceful silence descended upon the classroom.

That is, until the sword from the lovely tableaux de morte paperweight Lucius had given him for his thirtieth birthday slid out of the authentic shrunken Aztec skull's eye socket and free of the conquistador's grip, hovering unnoticed in midair before hurtling downward. It is a little known fact, but through the protective Chinese practice of Tiea Bu Shan, one can train one's testicles to draw up into the abdomen. Snape accomplished this out of sheer panicked instinct. With no time to move or even push the chair back, his body reacted at a level deeper than conscious or even subconscious thought, a previously uncalled-upon Snape gene expressing itself in order to ensure its passage on to future offspring. He could only stare at the aftermath, at the quivering mini-weapon buried halfway to the hilt in the wood of his chair between his legs. His students carried on with their work, oblivious to the near-disaster. If any noticed the increased pall of their professor's features as he dismissed them at the end of the period, none gave visible indication.

*****

"POTTER! Remove your wand from my person IMMEDIATELY before I detach the limb holding it from your body!"

"I NEVER LOVED YOU ANYWAY, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!"

A shower of sparks issued from the wand lodged in a very uncomfortable and already tender place on Snape's body. He refrained from yelping only because he was in the presence of a large group of Gryffindors and loathed the thought of their witnessing him in such a state of discomposure.

"GOOD, BECAUSE YOU WERE NOTHING MORE THAN A HALF-DECENT SHAG, YOU LYING, CHEATING SON OF A BITCH!"

Under other circumstances, the contrast between Malfoy's denial and hurt tone would have amused Snape, but he was a bit occupied trying to separate the two squabbling boys, once again without the aid of his wand. In addition, he was alone in the endeavor, for the entire hallway of Gryffindors were incapable of anything but staring, slack-jawed, as the Savior of the Wizarding World and the young Lord Malfoy leapt out of the closet together in the largest public dispute since Hagrid proposed opening a puppy farm for Canis Cerberus in the Astronomy Tower. He had a feeling venturing out of the dungeons for lunch was a mistake.

"I CHEATED ON YOU? I SAW YOU WITH THAT UGLY TART IN THE CHARMS CLASSROOM!"

"Potter--"

"THAT WAS MY COUSIN, YOU STUPID GIT!"

"MALFOY!"

He winced and bit back a howl as the blond Slytherin kicked viciously at what he presumably considered to be part of Potter, but instead hit Snape's right shin with an unhealthy crack, causing the unfortunate professor to double over and forcing the sparking wand further into his crotch. With the first blood drawn (albeit not from either of the main combatants), the battle commenced. All thoughts of magic forgotten, for Snape had managed to get a painful hold on their wands, the boys used every free appendage to rain down blows on each other and any flesh in between. Beneath the onslaught, Snape dropped both wands and kicked them to the corner of the room, then focused his attention on separating the two feuding lovers.

With Snape functioning as a buffer, neither really gained the upper hand. He'd pulled them an arm's length apart with Malfoy clinging to Potter's tie when he heard a female voice ring out behind him.

"Petrifictus Totalus!"

He found himself unable to move until the same voice uttered "Finite Incantatem," and he was finally able to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs, sighing in relief as he removed Potter's elbow from his stomach. He turned to see Hermione Granger pushing her way through the ring of dead-weight Gryffindors toward him. He tried walking away from the frozen couple, but a bolt of agony shot through his midsection with the first step, drawing him to his knees. She was at his side almost instantly, looking very concerned.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Hardly, Ms. Granger. Where's my wand?"

"Accio Snape's wand!"

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then small whistling noises could be heard from opposite ends of the castle, growing louder as the objects approached the Great Hall. Snape swore he heard a cat howl from the direction of one of them. Before long, both lost wands appeared, flying neatly into Hermione's outstretched hand. She promptly returned them to his care, then helped him shakily to his feet.

"Get me to the infirmary. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, you have earned yourselves detention for the rest of the year and the full academic careers of your children's children, however they may be conceived."

Without bothering to free the immobile duo, Snape limped off to the hospital wing with an arm gingerly placed across the Head Girl's shoulders. When they were out of sight of the still-gawking House of Gryffindor, his hold on her tightened as he pulled her into a hug in one of the alcoves off the hallway.

"Be merciful, and kill me now." His voice was muffled as he pressed his overly large nose into her neck.

"It won't be that horrible, Severus. Madam Pomfrey will help."

"This day will never end. Can we stay here instead?"

"Unfortunately, I have to be getting back to lunch, then Arithmancy, and you have at least two classes left today."

"I'm canceling them."

"From what I know of Dumbledore, he won't let you."

"Then they'll be writing essays. Perfectly harmless essays without scalding, biting, poking, stabbing, ripping, or piercing of any kind."

"That sounds reasonable. Now let's get you healed."

Snape grudgingly released her from the embrace, but kept an arm around her as they continued to the infirmary. Upon arrival, Pomfrey gave them both a disapproving glare before ushering Snape to one of the beds. He threw Hermione one last pleading look over his shoulder, which she answered with a reassuring smile. He held that vision of beauty in his mind as a happy place while the mediwitch prodded him with her wand and grumbled over his injuries.

"I don't know how you do this to yourself, Severus. It's hardly worth patching you up anymore, you just end up right back here before long. There, that should take care of the burning. Hold still, now. I need to reduce the swelling."

Snape was yanked forcefully back into the real world.

"Really, you needn't. There's no swelling at all."

"I have to make sure there's still four there."

"Four?" His voice broke as he tried inching away from his tormentor.

"Two. I meant two. Calm down, Severus, and I'll make this as painless as possible--"

"What did Albus tell you?!"

"It's a harmless medical procedure, and it's for the best. We're doing this for your benefit, Severus. You could be more appreciative."

"You're all bleeding mad!"

"You'll feel just a quick pinch--"

"No!" With the strength of the desperate, Snape flew off the cot, grabbed the nearest bedpan, and whacked the mediwitch over the head with it. After straightening his robes and resetting his personal shields, he fled to his classroom, forgoing lunch completely, as the experience had left him with no appetite. He taught his remaining classes barricaded behind his desk, vaporizing anything that came within three feet of him.

He was planning on locking himself in his rooms for the rest of the evening, teaching duties bedamned, when Dumbledore intercepted him.

"Severus, it has come to my attention that the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams are playing a friendly match this afternoon to replace the one that was cancelled. They are in need of a referee to make sure nothing... drastic happens."

"Absolutely not! I'm not going anywhere near a Bludger today."

"Severus..."

*****

Quite against his will and every instinct he possessed, Snape found himself outside next to the Quidditch pitch. He noticed Hooch standing a few paces in front of him, and decided to ask her for as many pieces of protective gear as he could wear at one time before embarking what was sure to be a painful endeavor.

"Rolanda, Albus informed me--"

Without warning, the Quidditch instructor let fly a furious back-kick which caught Snape just below the navel, felling him.

"We are over, Filius! I just can't do this any--Severus! What are you doing down there?"

"Enjoying the wonderful sensation your boot produced upon impact with my body."

The sarcasm in his voice would have been tangible if he weren't barely breathing.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Severus, I thought you were--why did you grab my bum?"

"I did no such thing! And what the bloody hell were you aiming at? Surely not Flitwick's other head? Or do you greet every prospective suitor with a swift kick in the balls? No wonder you have relationship issues."

A good quarter-hour later, after Hooch had reluctantly aided him in his request for protection before she stormed off to find Flitwick, Snape stood by the pitch, fully clad in Quidditch gear reinforced by shielding charms. Rechecking himself one last time, Snape took to the air, motioning for the teams to fly toward him. When they were suitably assembled, he scowled at each of the players in turn, particularly menacingly at Potter and Malfoy, who were not close to speaking despite a long lecture by Granger.

"I am not here by choice. The headmaster decided that you required chaperoning for this pointless event and, to my great regret, chose me to do so. I will not tolerate any misconduct by either team. Nor is there to be any personal grudges settled during this match. Furthermore, if anything, whether it be broom, Bludger, or human being, comes anywhere close to hitting me, I will not hesitate in implementing its swift and agonizing annihilation. Is this clear?"

At nods by both captains, though they were still attempting to kill each other by sight alone, he blew the whistle, starting the match. The game was fast and furious as the rival teams battled for Quidditch superiority. Snape was too occupied in tracking the potential fouls between the Chasers and Beaters on each team and ensuring that the Bludgers stayed far away from him to notice the tiny gold Snitch creep closer to him and attach itself to his belt. His only clue was a combined shout from Potter and Malfoy as they came hurtling toward him with matching deranged expressions of unforgiving determination, indicating a complete lack of concern for naught but victory, including possible harm to a professor's reproductive organs.

Snape flew like he never had before. The match ground to a halt as both teams goggled at the spectacle of the professor fleeing the two Seekers, weaving in and out of the stands in a display of flying ability worthy of most professional athletes. Twisting, diving, turning, and flipping, Snape tried to shake the boys, his plight worsened when the Bludgers and even the Quaffle joined the chase. He dove beneath a level of the stands, severing a support behind him and causing it to fall in front of his pursuers. He took advantage of the small breather and ripped his belt off, throwing it over his shoulder as he hastened to the ground. He didn't even glance behind him to determine whose voice had shouted victory, but leapt from his broom and stalked back to the castle with as much dignity as he could muster. Alas, but his liberation was not yet at hand, for Dumbledore again blocked safe passage to his rooms, waylaying him under the pretence of dinner. He was dragged to the Great Hall by the combined efforts of an idiotically cheerful Headmaster and exceedingly sour McGonagall, who, though fully restored to human sanity, remained none too happy with her co-worker in spite of his professed innocence. He tuned out Dumbledore's speech before the meal and concentrated on removing all potential weapons from his vicinity. Thus, he missed the Headmaster's gleeful announcement of the change in menu, and his complexion turned an impossible shade paler when he glanced down at his plate to find pieces of meat on skewers. He passed the threatening meal to Flitwick, and settled for soft bread and lukewarm pumpkin juice. He left the very second he was able, intending on making the evening as short as possible.

*****

"Get that mangy bag of fleas AWAY from me before I harvest his internal organs!"

"But Pr'fessor, 'e's only trying to say 'ello."

Snape doubted that the giant dog greeted everyone by gnashing its teeth while slobbering at the greetee's groin with anticipation worthy of a giant slab of raw beef.

"Aren't ye, Fang? There's a good boy."

The allegedly friendly canine was dragging Hagrid forward in his enthusiasm to make better acquaintance with the flavor of Snape's bollocks. Snape backed away slowly, opening one of the secret passages, and proceeded with the quickest patrol of the castle in faculty history.

He reached his quarters intact, having to dodge several large glittering pieces of glass formerly part of a chandelier and one wooden stake that had appeared to have his name on it. He warded the entrances to his classroom, office and rooms with every spell he could remember, most of them Dark (including the one banishing the unfortunate person attempting entry to a particularly unsavory part of New Jersey), resisting the urge to nail them shut only when he remembered that he did have one welcome visitor who would certainly not appreciate it. He did, however, remove Dumbledore from the short list of people recognized as safe by his defenses in case the old loon took it to his head to fulfill the prophecy himself.

Secure in the knowledge that he was shielded from his mysterious aggressor, Snape was actually looking forward to the remainder of the evening and hoped he would be able to convince his lover to settle for nice safe-but-satisfying sex, leaving the whips, chains, and flammables for tomorrow morning, just in case. Considering the rather trying day he'd suffered through, he decided a bath would not be out of the question, especially considering the distinct possibility that he could be sharing it in the near future...

He put a bottle of wine from his private stock on ice before heading for his spacious bathroom. He'd stripped down to his boxers before he felt a presence in the room. As he was diving for his wand perched on the sink, something blunt and heavy hit him in the head, spinning him toward his attacker. He hit the floor on his back heavily, and immediately upon impact, pain exploded in his groin, doubling him over in agony. Through the haze of anguish, he heard a high, squeaky voice cry out.

"I's sorry professor, but Nilly can't be letting you hurt the Frizzy Miss ever again!"

He opened his eyes to witness a house-elf, presumably female from the bright pink and neon green dress-like garment she was wearing, armed with a murderous look and what appeared to be a dental drill. A wicked-looking wooden spoon floated in front of him, and it moved closer to the already painful part of his body when he tried making a move for his wand.

Hurt who? Frizzy- oh bloody buggering Bludger...

"No! I would never--"

A horrible whirring noise drowned out the rest of his plea as she started the drill and stalked toward him. He shuffled backward in a panic, looking for anything within reach to stop the terrible advance of the vengeful house-elf, but to no avail. He was trapped against the wall as she came closer, and he saw the determination in her enormous eyes despite the nervous twitching of her long, pointy ears.

He tried to attack as she neared striking distance, but she cast a binding spell on him, forcing him into a spread-eagle position against the wall. Snape cast one final prayer for the sparing of his testicles before shutting his eyes tightly and bracing himself for inevitable torture.

But the bite of the drill never came. He heard the voice of his savior shout a series of spells and felt the magical ropes holding him loosen. The whine of the drill died before he opened his eyes.

Standing behind the petrified elf with drawn wand was Hermione Granger, in full Gryffindor heroic splendor. Again. He would never live this down.

"Severus, are you all right?"

Curled up in the fetal position on the floor in his underwear, Severus Snape struck with the only weapon left to him: sarcasm.

"Wonderful, thank you. Although it would have been loads more fun if you'd made your grand entrance just a bit later. You'd have been just in time to help me sew them back on."

Deciding that snarky-ness was a sign of good health, Hermione turned her attention back to the elf, freeing her mouth to allow her to talk. The elf was close to tears.

"Nilly, can you explain to me why you attacked Professor Snape?"

"He was hurting you, Miss Hermione. When Nilly came to visit last night, you was screaming..."

Oh. That.

"I promise you that Severus has never harmed me in any way. And if he does, I'll remove his balls myself. Now if I release you, promise me that you won't try attacking him again."

"No, Miss. Nilly is so sorry!"

The house-elf began wailing hysterically and tried to slam her head against the bathtub while still confined by the spell.

"Nilly--Nilly! You may not hurt yourself either. Come on, it's all right now. I forgive you."

She made comforting noises and embraced the distraught elf after ending the spell.

"I bloody well don't!"

"Severus, quiet for one more minute, please. Nilly, I want you to come to me first before you think of doing something like this again."

"Yes, ma'am. But the book Miss gave said--"

"Nilly, please ask me if you're ever unsure about what you read. Now go see Dobby for some hot chocolate. It will make you feel better."

"Yes, Miss. Nilly is so sorry, Professor Snape!"

A muffled growl was the only answer he felt up to giving.

"Goodnight, Nilly."

"Goodnight, Miss, Professor."

The teary but smiling elf disappeared with a pop. Hermione walked over and knelt next to the prone figure, who was most certainly not whimpering, because Snapes never whimper.

"Severus, I can't imagine how horrible this is for you. I'm so sorry, but I didn't realize what Nilly had done until Dobby told me where she was."

She cradled his head to her chest, rubbing the back of his head gently after muttering a healing spell, and he nuzzled closer in relief.

"I've been to Hades. It's inhabited by house-elves with Muggle dental hardware. Voldemort would have won the war if he had employed Nilly as head torturer. See what happens when I give you the best orgasm of your life?"

"I don't regret it a bit. You're okay. It's all over."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. They'll have to get through me if they try anything. Besides, it'll be morning soon."

"I suppose this means Nilly fit the definition of 'the claw of the Lioness'?"

"Well, it's too vague to be of any use, and just accurate enough to warrant a smug 'I told you so' from the Seer, so I'd venture to agree."

"I hate prophecies. And fucking Divination. And Trelawney."

"Me too."

They sat on the floor of the bathroom for awhile longer as Snape regained his equilibrium nestled in the safety of Hermione's breasts.

"How did that blasted house-elf get it in her head to make my life a living hell?"

"I lent her my Stephen King collection. I guess I didn't explain it well enough before giving the books and movies to her. And then she walked in on us last night--"

"I'm making a decree. No more horror for house-elves. And they're never going into your bedroom again."

"We weren't in the bedroom."

"Immaterial."

"All right, but, Severus, unless you want to go to the infirmary, I think I should make sure she didn't do too much damage."

He reluctantly shifted so that he was lying on his back in her lap. She carefully checked the bump at the back of his head and his eyes for concussion. Finding nothing too serious, she reached for his boxers, but stopped when he froze.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Relax, I've done this before. Besides, I have a personal interest in this particular area."

He tensed even more.

"What do you mean, you've done this before?"

"A couple of months ago, Harry and Draco got a little... carried away. Harry didn't want to go to Madam Pomfrey, so they asked me for help."

"You've ministered to Potter's privates? Why haven't I heard about this--Aarghh! Did you make sure your hands resembled icicles before you put them there?"

"I should think that would ease the pain a bit. Hold still! And I didn't tell you because it wasn't necessary."

"I refuse to hold still while you insist on molesting me!"

"This never bothered you before." She smirked, and he ignored it.

"You can add any physical contact you happen to have with Potter's naked body to the list of topics requiring discussion."

"Nothing happened. Draco supervised the entire procedure, and he's even more of a possessive git than you."

"Nevertheless, I'm invoking the Circle of Trust, clause eighteen-point-five; from now on, any incident involving you and male genitalia not belonging to me necessitates disclosure. Likewise for me, as I hardly believe that you would be indifferent if I began giving spontaneous gynecological exams."

"Fine. Don't move. I'll be right back."

"What? Where are you going?" Snape's voice did not contain a hint of anxiety. Absolutely none whatsoever.

"As the resident Potions master, I presume you'd know that through that door lie several potions with the potential of healing you. Do you object to my retrieving some of them?"

"No. Hurry up."

"Yes, master."

He waited for her nervously, eyeing his surroundings for any sign of attack.

She returned with several potions he recognized as analgesics and a tissue- healing poultice.

"Here. Drink these."

He downed he concoctions and sighed as they quickly took effect, a cool healing wave passing through his aching body.

"Are you staying the night?"

"It's the least I could do. Come on, let's get you to bed."

He leaned on her as much as he could on the way to the bedroom and pulled her slowly down to lie beside him when they reached his bed. After applying the poultice to his nether regions, he curled up to her, his head again hugged to her chest.

"What would Hogwarts think if they knew Severus Snape liked to cuddle?"

"Do it and everyone will know how you really use that new quill."

"You gave that to me!"

"And your point is?"

"Just beyond your grasp, apparently."

"Is it?"

"Severus, stop tha--mmmmmmm... you need--oh--rest--"

"I am resting, thank you."

"Sev--oh gods--as good as that feels, you need to sleep now. I'll more than make it up to you in the morning."

"I'm counting on it. Good night, love."

"Good night."

******

"Hermione?"

"Hmmm?

"Can I take your shirt off?"

"Mmm..."

******

Here comes the snake and he circles your leg

******

There, it's done. I hope you had half as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Please drop me a line, if only to tell me never to write again. Oh, and fifty points to your house if you pick up on the not-so-subtle X-Files reference. Thanks, and happy reading!