Mesmerising Memories

...Severus and I have assured you repeatedly that we'll always please you...

"Oh, god; Lucius, please ... Severus ... stop teasing; please ... God ... I need you ... fuck me ... please..."

Hermione woke up drenched in sweat, panting and gasping for breath. She hadn't felt this aroused in so, so very long. Her skin was impossibly sensitised; she felt as though each breath she exhaled was pure fire; the blood coursing through her veins seemed to be scorching, inflamed by her dream and by her heightened senses.

The same sequences replayed vividly every time she closed her eyes ... Not a dream, she realised with a start, as more scenes she was sure she hadn't seen in her sleep surfaced in rapid succession.

...tied to the headboard of a bed by the softest, most exquisite silk scarves in existence...

...the Mirror of Erised darkening ... a younger version of her biting her lip for control before Harry and Ron barrelled into the room...

That was what she had seen in the Mirror of Erised, three weeks before Lord Voldemort's final, complete defeat at her, Ron's and Harry's hands ... That seemed like nearly a lifetime ago. Hermione remembered quite vividly how determined she'd been to build a future out of that vision, to make it more than her deepest, most hidden, previously unacknowledged desire. There was something to be said about the best-laid plans, however.

Hermione's ill-advised attempt at a relationship with Ron had lost any hope of surviving a week before the Trio's venture in front of the Mirror of Erised. The rapport and conversations between her and Ron had been as flat as the chemistry and sexual compatibility between them. Emboldened by her vision, Hermione had not given in to Ron's ulterior advances.

Granted, Ron's seduction tactics had also been a large factor in her decision. He had attempted to sway her back into his arms with tales of being Aurors together, fame and fortune thanks to his success at Quidditch, and 'a few children that she would surely enjoy bringing up, as one or two of them would maybe even share her definition of light reading'. To this day, Hermione couldn't prevent her lip from curling at Ron's presumption and at the idea of renouncing her talents and ambition for a life of rearing children and of professional mediocrity.

Then, three weeks later, the Order had enjoyed a resounding victory over Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, where Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape had been key factors in turning the tide the Order's way. They taken advantage of their Death Eater garb and presumed loyalty to the Dark Lord, as well as of their proficiency with non-verbal spell-casting, and they had neutralised as many Death Eaters as the necessity of their stealth had allowed. Flanked by the two of them, Hermione had defended Harry and Ron's flanks as they had confronted Voldemort for the last time.

What had felt like mere moments after the Dark Lord's defeat, however, Malfoy and Snape had both been apprehended by Aurors. Lucius had been taken away in a rage fit to be tied over Narcissa's death, and Severus had begun trembling in sheer fury, caused by the invectives Harry and Ron had been spewing at him despite Hermione's most acid admonishments and attempts to reach for her wand and Silencio them. To their credit, though, both Slytherins had been smart enough not to put up a fight. Immediately after their capture at the Aurors' hands, they had been sent off to Azkaban along with all other Death Eaters, to await hearings with the Wizengamot.

The beeping of her alarm clock shook Hermione out of her reminiscent trance. She'd dwelled on the past quite enough, she decided as she padded her way into the bathroom to proceed with her morning ablutions. She hoped a nice, long, hot shower would prove enough to put the deluge of memories out of her mind, and allow her to regain her usually sharp focus. Today was to be quite a busy day indeed, and she knew she would need her wits about her.

What she'd shared with Lucius during the course of their conversation the previous afternoon had been very much correct. Hermione was researching forms of ancient magic, trying to trace the origins of channelling magic through a wand, the origins of the divergence between the forms of magic being used by the different magical creatures, and eventually, hopefully, the origins of magic itself.

Given the quite strenuous relationship she had with the Weasleys these days, Hermione had foregone an extensive research into ancient Egyptian magic. She didn't think that to be a loss, however, as Egyptian magic had been researched heavily enough by both Muggles and wizardfolk, to the point where talented curse breakers like Bill Weasley were uncovering many of the pyramids' deepest secrets.

Hermione was looking for more, far more; she was looking for a challenge. The whole object of her research was to tread where few had been before, and none had succeeded. Her aim was to revolutionise the wizarding world, or at least wizards' way of thinking. She wanted to prove that, essentially, there was no truth to the superiority of purebloods over Muggle-borns, of wizards over witches, of wizardfolk over house-elves or centaurs. Power and talent came in all shapes and sizes, despite individual choices and traditions regarding the use of these traits. She knew she had set her sights very high; but to Hermione a life without high ambitions wasn't much of a life at all.

A leisurely breakfast later, Hermione had penned a short missive to Lucius Malfoy, outlining her appreciation for his company and conversation the day before, and expressing her desire to follow up on his generous invitation to peruse the Manor's, and his, ancient book collection. If it wasn't too much trouble, she went on to enquire, could they possibly arrange a meeting that would allow her to asses the suitability of the research material? ... At his earliest convenience, of course.

Hermione sent off the letter before she had any time to second-guess herself, then went to her study to gather her research notes. She gave them another thorough perusal, and made some copies of them to take with her, in case Lucius' interest extended to reading about the aims, scope and finds of her research. The owl bearing Lucius' reply arrived a lot sooner than she had expected it to.

My dear Miss Granger,

Lucius

Hermione folded the letter back on itself and smiled. He was direct; very direct; too direct. It meant there was something very devious indeed on his private agenda ... but she found she didn't care. She'd find out what it was soon enough, and she was more than likely to enjoy the ride.

She closed her eyes, thought of Lucius' firm body and mysterious smile, and Apparated straight to the Manor's front door. Apparating within a building, especially a private building, was considered the height of bad manners. Never mind the countless wards Lucius was sure to have set in place to protect his Manor from intruders of all form.

A house-elf greeted her, and she followed him to the library. Shelves and shelves of silent tomes greeted her, and she stood in awe, taking in the sheer spectacle of centuries of magical knowledge piled up for her to peruse. 'As long as you please', Lucius had written; well, that would translate into very long indeed.

She walked towards the first shelf, oblivious to the house-elf whispering, "The Master is in his study, Miss; the Master asked to be informed when Miss is to be arriving," before disappearing with a near-silent 'pop'.

The first book was always like the first whiff of spring air after a long, stuffy winter. She opened it, taking in the soft crinkling of the opened page, the musty, heady smell of old tomes, and began to read. Engrossed in her reading, Hermione jumped, startled, when the same house-elf that had escorted her inside appeared right at her side and squeaked out, "Master says Master has selected special books for Miss. Master says books is to be found on Master's desk by the window; Master says all books is for what Miss says she looks for ... Master apologizes again, but Master needs discuss business with sir Snape and Master Draco. Sir Snape and Master is join Miss when Master Draco leave."

Hermione nodded, thanking the house-elf kindly before making her way to the desk where Lucius had apparently placed those books most likely to assist with her research.

Seated in a decadent leather chair in the Malfoy library, Hermione pored over the books Lucius had placed at her disposal. The information in them was fascinating, and the sheer number of volumes he had stacked on the desk before her would give her enough material for long months of study and exploration. The elation she felt at having so much lost information and history at her fingertips was so strong, she was sure she would be as unable to hide it as she was unwilling.

True to her nature, Hermione soon started drawing up a research schedule for herself, indexed and colour-coded by day, magical subject, time period and geographical origin of the magic she would study. For her purposes, she had decided to focus on a single magical subject and time period at a time and attempt to compare and cross-reference the similarities and differences according to the several geographical origins she would be focusing on.

As she was laying the finishing touches on her schedule, Hermione allowed her mind to drift to the possibilities this research could open and on ways she could further it; on the old spells she could rediscover or alter to bring them to new usefulness ... A fond smile graced Hermione's face as she recalled falling into the habit of drawing schedules like these for Harry and Ron, hoping to teach them the value of being organised instead of procrastinating and panicking.

Unbidden, the memory of that night's dream resurfaced, replaying before her eyes. Since reliving it the night before, her experience before the Mirror of Erised had been under the surface of her thoughts throughout the day, giving her frissons of excitement ever so often. The detailed images she'd seen, coupled with her rich imagination, allowed her to vividly feel every touch and every emotion in the vision ... And these sensations were every bit as powerful every time her memory flared before her eyes, as it was now doing over and over.

A sharp inhalation made Hermione focus her eyes, and she realised she was staring into the black eyes of Severus Snape, who was gazing at her intently. There was a look in his eyes that accelerated her heartbeat and made her knees tremble, and no amount of lying to herself would make her believe her reaction to stem from fear. Slowly, his eyes still firmly fixed on her face, Snape moved to her, taking hold of her upper arm with his left hand and lifting her from her seat. A barely perceptible flick of his wand banished the chair to the opposite side of the room.

"What an intriguing memory, Miss Granger," he ground out in an eerily composed voice. "Oddly, I seem to have no recollection of such an event transpiring, and yet Lucius and I were undeniably the protagonists...

"The unerring accuracy prevents me from dismissing this as a mere fantasy ... So, care to explain?"

"Better yet," he continued over Hermione's stammered "Mirror of Erised", "perhaps I should have a closer look."

In a dizzying flash, the events leading up to her idea of using the Mirror of Erised surfaced from her memory in rapid succession. She saw Harry and Ron's puzzled faces as she detailed her plan; recalled their determination as she instructed them to focus, to shape Voldemort's demise as their greatest desire. She saw herself gathering her composure as a grim-faced Harry, then a solemn Ron exited the room housing the Mirror; she recalled her anxiety as she opened her eyes, taking her first, tentative peek in the Mirror; she felt her dawning realisation that she shouldn't have to settle if such lovers were within her grasp, followed by her determination to turn that vision into her future ... Then she saw once more the impossibly black eyes of Severus Snape.

Hermione took a few small, nervous steps back, fighting to control her breathing and the faint way her limbs were trembling.

"Did you mean that, Miss Granger ... Hermione ...? Was – Is this still the future you want?" Snape's voice seemed tightly reined, as though there were too many things clamouring to get out that he needed to control. In fact, his voice was so strained that there was a minute, but discernible tremor in it. Not trusting her own voice, Hermione merely nodded.

Moments later, Snape's hands cupped her jaws, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly before he bent and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, making eye contact with her.

This time, the dizzying jumble of images spinning into the forefront of her mind wasn't hers. She saw disjointed snippets of Snape, Lucius and her fighting side by side against the Dark Lord; she felt her heart lurch, the way she realised his must have, when she saw her vitriolic reprimand of Harry and Ron as they were hurling invective after invective at a disarmed and bound Severus Snape; she saw Snape's reaction at her statements before the Wizengamot on his and Lucius' behalf...

Hermione groaned and allowed her eyes to flutter shut as she gave in to her need and pressed her lips more firmly to Severus'. His answering groan reverberated through her as the movement of his lips over hers became more insistent; with another gentle caress, Severus' hands let go of her face, and made their way down her shoulders to the small of her back, pulling her body closer to his own. Long, skilful fingers started tracing patterns along her spine and across the small of her back, making it that much easier for her to lose herself in their kiss.

Just as Hermione was about to bring her hands up and tangle them in Severus' hair, the door to the library slammed shut, making them jump apart slightly. Faces flushed and slightly breathless, they both turned to face the intrusion.