What Do I Spy with My Little Eye?

Chapter 3 – What Do I Spy with My Little Eye?

Hermione entered the library with a huge smile on her face. Since this was an almost daily occurrence, no one really paid it any attention. Some Ravenclaw third-years looked at one another and rolled their eyes as she passed them, but that was also rather standard behaviour. She had got over the fact that even the most studious people at Hogwarts thought her an over-ambitious nerd by now. She was actually kind of proud of her reputation, though she wouldn't ever admit it if any of her friends were to ask.

She decided to start at the beginning, with reading up on the Consanguine Revelare, before she ventured into the Restricted Section, looking for ways to counter it. She found the book--a very thick one on medieval law and property rights, which she'd taken out for a bit of bedtime reading in her fifth year--and sat down in a secluded corner, flipping through the pages. The spell was mentioned several times, but not thoroughly described. The name indicated some sort of blood-magic, and she got up and walked over to another shelf. Frowning, she went over the titles, realising that the only books on blood and blood-magic available were those on very practical uses of blood, usually animal blood and usually in potion making. There seemed to be nothing about the theory behind the obscure magical branch--even the section on Alchemy was very limited. Odd that she'd never realised it before...

She picked out a few volumes and looked at the reference pages in the back. All of them listed one Sanguine Magic – Theory and Practice among their principal sources. This book was not on the shelf so she walked over to the counter.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince, do you know where I could find this book, please?" The severe-looking librarian looked at the title she'd scribbled down and frowned.

"That work is in the Restricted Section. You need permission from a teacher in order to retrieve it." She turned back to her filing, seemingly expecting Hermione to go away.

"I have a permission slip. Here." She pushed the slip of parchment across the counter. Madam Pince took it, and her eyes widened.

"This is a general permission slip," she said, suspicion in her voice. "And I know for a fact that Professor Snape never gives out anything but the ones specifying precisely which book a person is allowed to access."

"Well, he did this time," Hermione said simply. The librarian just glared at her.

"Just a minute, please. I need to verify this." She walked into her office, and Hermione felt her cheeks redden in indignation that the other woman obviously thought she was trying to deceive her. A few moments later, she was back, her lips pursed tightly together, and without a word, she gestured for Hermione to follow her. They walked into the Restricted Section, and she pointed at a dark, dusty section in the back. Then she turned abruptly and walked back to her desk.

Hermione took a couple of minutes to just enjoy the feeling of being surrounded by hundreds of new books. They were all old, exciting and possibly dangerous--she couldn't wait to get started. Reverently, she waked down the aisle to the corner indicated by Madam Pince and quickly found the volume she was looking for. Taking it from the shelf, along with some other interesting-looking titles, she brought it back to her spot in the main library.

She stayed in the library all day, reading and making notes. Ron came by at lunchtime, and Harry early in the evening, trying to convince her to come eat in the Great Hall. She refused and instead asked them to bring her something non-sticky back. They grudgingly agreed.

Hours flew by, and before she'd noticed it, darkness had fallen. At ten, Madam Pince closed the library, sending Hermione a pointed glance. Hermione indicated the Head Girl badge at the top of her robes and went back to her reading. She was happy that Dumbledore had let her keep it even though the actual Head Boy and Girl had come back from St. Mungo's. About six months earlier, the Ravenclaw couple had been severely injured during a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade, and Hermione and Harry had been recruited to fill their positions. Now they were back, but seeing as they both had the NEWTs to prepare for and two months of classes to catch up on, Hermione and Harry retained some of their duties, as well as the badges and the private quarters. Dumbledore had said that he figured it wouldn't do them any harm to practice a bit for the following year and then given them a small wink. Back then, she'd been elated at the veiled promise of becoming the official Hogwarts Head Girl. Now, it felt more like a strain, to be perfectly honest. Between school, Occlumency and her 'relationship' with Snape, she didn't have a lot of time for other things. And patrolling the school corridors at odd hours did lose its charm after a while.

She'd just started reading a new chapter on pureblood advantages in promotion-related programs at the Ministry of Magic in A History of Purity Politics (and was becoming increasingly angry at the bigotry and prejudice displayed by the author), when she felt a presence in the room. She looked up from her book and smiled at the tall form leaning against one of the bookcases.

"Found anything interesting?"

"Plenty. I'm not so sure whether any of it is useful, though," she answered, gesturing at the pile of books beside her.

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know exactly. I've found out more or less how the Consanguine Revelare works, I think, but I still don't know precisely why it works the way it does."

"Think, Hermione," he said. "Once you know the 'how', the 'why' should logically follow. Now tell me how it works." She frowned, racking her brain to put the pieces together. Not succeeding, she started talking, hoping the answer would come to her.

"The Consanguine Revelare is a charm invented to show family ties between people related by blood. When applied on a wizard or a witch, it reads their ancestry, displaying the result as a coloured aura around the person's head. Each magical line has its own colour matrix, and so the result is easy to read and very dependable. It's also used to establish paternity," she added as an afterthought.

"Very good. What colour indicates Muggle parentage?"

"Brown," she answered without even looking at her notes.

"Correct. Allow me to demonstrate." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her. "Revelo Sanguinem!"

Pure silver light shot from his wand and connected with her body. She felt her head begin to spin as the magic coursed through her veins.

"Look at yourself in the window," he said, his voice cutting through the hissing sound in her ears. She turned around and looked at her reflection in the dark glass. A brown aura surrounded her head, giving the impression that her hair had grown to three times its actual volume. It looked absolutely horrific, and a small giggle escaped her.

"Finite Incantatem," Snape said, and the aura disappeared, leaving her normal reflection in the glass before her. She turned back to him.

"Now, Hermione, based on your experience and what you've read tonight, how would you say that the charm reveals one's ancestry?" She thought back on the rushing sensation and suddenly, it all made sense.

"It reads my blood. Magical blood is pure," she quoted, "At a magical conception, both parents' blood is reconstructed in the offspring, leaving the lines' blood untainted and unchanged." Suddenly, something else clicked in her head as well: "Mudblood. Oh my God, that's what they mean?" she whispered, indicating the now normal space around her head.

"Yes," he answered, matter-of-factly. "No doubt someone thought the word play very poignant at one time."

"So all this 'pureblood', 'half-blood', 'mudblood' nonsense, it's all related to this charm?" She sounded mildly incredulous.

"Precisely, it was very popular a few hundred years ago. Still is in some circles, and it's still used in many legal matters." Hermione closed her eyes, thinking hard. There was something at the back of her brain, wanting to be brought forward, wanting to connect...

"The Basilisk!" Her eyes snapped open when the word fell from her lips. "That's how it knew which students to attack--it could see their blood aura. I always wondered..." Snape looked mildly impressed.

"That makes sense," he conceded. "So, Hermione, how could we use this to our advantage?"

"I don't know. When you first mentioned it, I thought... No."

"Go on."

"Well, I just thought that we'd pretend that I was related to you somehow. That would provide a good excuse as to why I'd approached you in the first place, say, if I were to have discovered that my real father was actually your uncle or similar, and I wanted to know more about my biological family." He smiled.

"Close, but not exactly what I had in mind." Her eyes widened.

"But, Severus, it's not possible. This charm proves that I don't have your blood."

"Not yet." She blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

"But... how?"

"I believe that was the task I set you--to find the solution. Perhaps you should return to your studies? Unless," His voice dropped a few notes, "you'd rather continue tomorrow. It is rather late after all. Shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

"Shouldn't you?" She raised an eyebrow at him teasingly. He took a few steps closer.

"I should. Why don't I escort you to your chambers? Tuck you in? Make sure that no monsters are hiding under your bed?" She chuckled.

"Or in my bed, perhaps?" She looked around her, then at her pile of books, then at him. "No... I think I need to finish this, find a solution to the problem." She gave him her 'determined' look, and he smiled sardonically, turning to leave.

"Good night and good luck, then." She let him walk to the end of the aisle before calling out, just loud enough for him to hear:

"I don't believe I asked you to leave." He stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I thought you wanted to study."

"I do." She got out of the chair and walked towards him. "But to do that, I need my source material."

"Everything you need is in the Restricted Section."

"I believe you're wrong," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him back to her work station. "I think everything I need is right--" she pushed him gently into the chair, straddling him, "--here." She bent to kiss his neck.

"This is not acadaemic research," he chided, running his hands up her back. "You're supposed to find the solution on your own."

"Oh, and I will. But you never told me what methods I could and could not use. You just asked me to find the solution, and I believe I will." Her hands deftly moved to the buttons of his robes.

"What happened to 'never again in a public place'?" he asked with a smirk, enjoying her lips as they wandered from his neck to his shoulder.

"It's one-thirty in the morning. The whole castle is asleep. And besides..." She raised her head and gave him a sassy smile. "It rather turns me on." He let out a laugh at the naughty look on her face.

"You realise that you will have to be extremely persuasive, don't you?" She winked at him.

"Perfectly," she answered, placing a swift kiss on his mouth. "And I've always loved a challenge."

She parted his robes and slid out of his lap, getting to her knees on the floor. Excruciatingly slowly, she removed his boxers and spread his legs, settling herself comfortably between them. Her eyes never leaving his, she stroked him lightly with her hand a few times before leaning down and running her tongue along the length of him, chuckling softly at the expression of intense desire that filled his black eyes. Lowering her eyes for a moment, she licked her lips and suckled softly at the underside, letting her tongue explore the silky skin. His breath grew faster as she tilted her head and took an inch of him inside her mouth, massaging it with her lips and tongue, sucking smoothly. She worked her way down by millimetres, taking her time, enjoying the impatient sounds he made. At one point, his hands made their way into her hair, gently urging her to go faster. With a quick flick of her wand, they were tied behind the back of the chair, and she withdrew from him, starting the whole process over. He groaned loudly, and she smiled, enjoying the power she held over him. After a while longer of slow, teasing progression, she suddenly withdrew altogether--only to plunge down the next moment and take all of him in one smooth stroke. He threw his head back and gasped, hands straining against their bonds, jerking up against her. She moaned, letting her throat vibrate softly around him. He thrust again, more violently, and she steadied his hips with her forearms, holding him in place with her body weight. He kept struggling and groaning as she firmly set the pace, sucking him deep a few times before sliding off, running her tongue from the base up a second time.

"When did you learn how to deep-throat?" his strangled-sounding voice asked from above her head.

"Oh, about a month ago," she replied nonchalantly, giving him some more evidence of her new skill, effectively shutting him up.

"And... how?" he panted after she'd released him again, his head tilted back against the top of the chair.

"I did some reading," she answered. "And... um... I might have practiced a little... with a transfigured banana."

"I'm lucky to have such a diligent student," he managed to get out, though the usual snarkiness in his voice was somewhat lacking due to heavy breathing. "How come you haven't shown me this new skill before?"

"Three words: the opportune moment," she said with a grin, placing another kiss at the crown and letting her tongue come into play once more. He opened his eyes then, and the look in them sent a jolt of heat through her. It was a look of raw desire, hypnotic, branding... She licked her lips again and ran a finger around the tip, making lazy circles. "So, Professor," she murmured huskily, "what do I need to do to become a Snape?"

Harry was walking along the dark corridors, moving soundlessly, careful not to break the peaceful silence in the castle. He should have made his rounds just after midnight, but Ginny had managed to keep him, well, occupied (he blushed slightly at the memory) for a few hours, and now he was late (ok, very late). He would gladly have skived off patrol just then, seeing as it was three in the morning and nobody was up and about, but he couldn't. The prefect system had a magical calendar attached to it, which marked a missed patrol automatically. Since neglecting his pseudo-Head Boy duties for any other reason than imminent death would bring the fury of Minerva McGonagall down on him, he'd figured a quick sweep of the castle could be managed before going to sleep. He was just passing by the library when something made him stop dead in his tracks.

Somebody was moaning in there.

No, wait, strike that. Two people were making those sounds, one higher and one lower voice mixing together.

Which logically meant that either they were getting a very advanced snog on, or they were shagging.

Great. So not what he needed.

He was tempted to just keep walking and leave the couple in peace, but somehow, his silent steps were directed towards the sounds. A righteous voice in his head was arguing that it was his duty to catch any student out of bed after curfew, but it didn't manage to convince even himself. He was curious, simple as that.

As he crept closer, he wondered idly who would have sex in the library. He could understand the lure of shagging in a place where people might catch you, but the library? Really? He'd entertained a few fantasies about taking Ginny to the prefects' bathroom, or perhaps the Quidditch pitch at night, but the library? Seriously, who could like books that much?

Dear Lord, please don't let it be Madam Pince!

But no, the feminine voice didn't sound like the shrill and raspy one of the Hogwarts librarian. It sounded soft, familiar in some way. A foggy memory began to form in his mind, some sort of forgotten dream he'd had. That moan... where had he heard that moan before? He stealthily rounded the last corner and peered into the aisle that seemed to hold the source of the disturbingly alluring noise. What he saw made him freeze. He just stood there, petrified, staring, incapable of all coherent thought as the scene played out before his eyes.

A big armchair was placed at the end of the aisle, just beneath a window overlooking the grounds. A small table stood beside it, holding a few books and a lamp which enfolded the chair and its occupants in a bubble of soft, golden light. More books and scraps of clothing lay discarded on the floor, a scarlet thong catching his attention momentarily before his eyes were forcibly drawn back to the couple in the chair.

The girl had brown hair, swept up on her head and dark with sweat where a few curls played at her neck. Her bare back was glistening in the soft light, and big hands were greedily touching her skin, running up and down in sync with her own movements. The contour of a rounded breast could be seen from where he stood, but the girl's face was protected by the shadows, as well as the identity of the man.

He watched, transfixed, as their movements became more frantic, and then he heard it... that voice...

"God, I can't believe how good you feel..."

No, no, no, bloody hell no! Not Snape?! Not the voice that used to insult him while talking about potion ingredients! No! No, no, no!

And then the other shoe dropped, hitting him square in the face, making him stagger.

"Severus... hold me... please, just a little... a little bit more... I--I... God... I can't... I can't... I'm... I--" The incoherent speech faded into a series of gasps and moans as the girl arched and threw her head back, an expression of rapture on her face as her lips kept moving.

Hermione. Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

Not possible, not possible, not fucking possible! Not Hermione! Not Snape! NOT, NOT, NOT together!!! Not shagging in the bloody library! No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...!

Movement suddenly returned to his legs, and he felt himself move backwards into the shadows, putting yard after yard of stony distance between himself and the now haunting mental pictures. Oh, God! He broke into a run as soon as he reached the corridor and sprinted towards Gryffindor tower, running away, far, far away, from the sounds of ecstasy that kept ringing in his ears. He took the steps up and down the many staircases two at a time, and when he finally reached his own quarters, he was sweaty and exhausted. Closing the door, he leaned against it and slid down onto the floor. Thoughts swirled in his head, and he put it in his hands, trying to force the images and all the voices to stop.

Voice number one was screaming that he had seen wrong, that it had been some other people in that chair, that it had only been a trick of the light, that he was exhausted and delusional, and so on.

Voice number two was calling voice number one a buggering fool in massive state of denial and projecting a slide show of exhibits one through infinity onto the back of his closed eyelids.

Voice number three argued that something was wrong. That Hermione was being raped and that he should run back and rescue her.

Voice number four sneered that rape victims didn't beg for more and have massive orgasms in front of his eyes.

Voice number three countered by screaming that Hermione still wasn't herself, that she must have been drugged, or controlled by the Imperius Curse, or something else evil and illegal that would be able to put his perverted professor in Azkaban ten times over.

Voice number five was shouting at everyone to get the buggering fuck out of his head and just leave him the bloody hell alone!

Harry let up a desperate groan and banged his head against the heavy wood. The pain made the progressing insanity recede somewhat.

Right, Occlumency. Clear your mind.

The problem was that thinking about Occlumency made him think about Snape, which made him think about...

Enough!

With frantic effort, he forced his thoughts to focus on Dumbledore, on the techniques he'd learnt over the past year. Taking deep breaths, he compelled his heart-rate to slow, his muscles to relax and his mind to go a blissful blank. He had to start over a dozen times as an image would flash across his mind and the anger would resurface, but an hour later, he managed to achieve the zen-like state of mental oblivion. Deciding that he would deal with everything that bothered him in the morning, he staggered over to the bed and collapsed next to Ginny's sleeping form.

The next morning, he was awakened by a tickling sensation. He opened his eyes and saw a curtain of red hair move back and forth over his chest. It felt great. He grinned and pushed the hair out of the way, finding his girlfriend's face, which was smiling mischievously. He grabbed her and rolled, managing to place a few kisses along her neck before she giggling threw him off. He pushed himself up on an elbow and looked down at her.

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you too."

"You seem to be in a good mood."

"Yeah, well, two and a half hours of snogging tends to do that to me," she said, rolling her eyes and smiling impishly. "You don't look that depressed yourself."

"I'm not complaining," Harry said, grinning. "I think your kinky mind is starting to have a bad influence on me though."

"Oh?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, eyes glittering. "Do tell." Harry threw himself back on the pillows before starting to laugh uncontrollably.

"Good God, Gin, you won't believe the kind of twisted dream I had last night!"

A/N: Please review! I love reviews.