What The Future Holds

Chapter 2

By Ehann

Professor Severus Snape had been teaching for well over a decade, and as a result, felt reasonably sure he had dealt with every possible permutation of disaster his students could foist upon him. That is, until the Granger chit toppled backwards in his Potions class after ingesting her Sight Out of Mind potion.

He had ladled it from the cauldron into a clear glass in order to inspect the color. For this particular potion, there was a wide range of acceptable colors. In truth, that was the reason he had chosen Malfoy to work with Granger in the first place. Together they were his best students and—barring anything unforeseen— he could be reasonably certain that they had the best chance of producing a potion that actually worked.

Granger’s potion was a deep red, nearly the color of blood, in fact. But it held no debris, and after a cursory inspection it certainly appeared safe. In years to come, he would later decide that rash assumption marked the beginning of the end for everything he had ever known.

Draco had leaped out of the way when Granger went down, and Snape somehow managed to catch the girl before she split her skull on the edge of the black work table. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Potter, Weasley, and the other Gryffindors shouting at him in their concern. Snape staggered for a moment, shifting the girl in his arms to a less precarious position—sliding his arms under her shoulders and knees. Her head lolled back and he saw her eyelids part just a fraction.

He dipped his head down, hoping to see those brown eyes flashing with rage, or better yet, embarrassment. For certainly, he should not be the only one burning with humiliation. However, he only saw the white scleras peeking from between the slight parting of lids.

All posturing aside, he thought, you’ve really done it this time, Snape. Poisoned a student. “Dismissed!” He snapped harshly, glaring at them all. “Turn off the cauldrons and…” he considered. There wasn’t much time, and he needed the room locked up to make sure no one else got hurt. “Potter,” he said, and saw the green eyes staring hatefully at him. “Find Mr. Filch. Have him come and lock up the classroom. Weasley, run ahead and tell Pomfrey what happened and to expect us shortly. The rest of you—get out.”

For the one of the few times in his life, Snape gave thanks that his class was half Gryffindor. They could be trusted at least to do whatever it took to assist their housemate, even if it required aiding the dreaded Potions Master. Unlike his own students, who would likely prefer standing around in small groups dissecting every thing that had happened.

The teenagers scattered and Snape hurried off to the infirmary, holding Miss Granger close to his chest. She was breathing even and deep, he saw, and felt his own sigh of relief escape his chest. What in Merlin’s name had they done? He had carefully watched them prepare the potion, making sure that they did so correctly. He had been worried that after Granger had cut her finger that she spattered droplets of blood into her cauldron, which would have had—

His thoughts screeched to a halt.

 –Disastrous results, his mind finished. He’d had Hermione in mind to test the thing all along, intending to have Malfoy add a hair or some other bit of himself. Snape had been amused at the possibility of letting the Muggle-born Granger see through Draco’s eyes for a few minutes.

Her blood, he thought. Her blood somehow got in there and she linked it to herself. Snape racked his brain as he walked, feeling like he had overlooked a vital piece of information. Wait…wait. Hadn’t Malfoy been teasing her, dangling the Cactus Needles over the cauldron?

“Of all the—” Foolish, foolish children! Depending on how many extra Needles had found their way into the potion, there could be little anticipating the altered action of what she had ingested. It was inextricably linked to her. Blood was a potent binding agent. Possibly she had linked to a future version of herself. He only hoped—Merlin’s Balls! He felt sick to his stomach. He hoped that Miss Granger was alive and well in the future, he considered grimly. For if, by some horror, she ended up dead in the near future, the girl in his arms might very well never wake up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her senses hadn’t been damaged. She could still hear, that is, she heard Snape ask her if anything was wrong. She felt his hand on her shoulder, his lips on her neck, even felt her body shiver and go hot and cold at the same time. She could even use the eyes to look at Snape. Wow, did he look different naked. Who would have thought he had such wide shoulders, or such muscular arms…but even Snape wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she couldn’t make any more words leave her mouth. And there was something else really weird—she felt like there was someone else in her head.

Someone who had control.

“—all right, Severus,” her voice was saying from far away, “Remember the accident in my seventh year? Apparently my younger self is visiting with us this morning.” A short pause. A tickling sort of feeling. Then, “She’s quite frightened actually, and more than a little shaken about last night.”

He smiled. “What was so bad about last night?”

Hermione felt amusement. Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate. It wasn’t her that felt amused it was…oh bother! The owner of this body, the Hermione who was obviously older— She was amused, and Hermione the younger, felt the second hand emotions as if they’d been rubbed off onto her. She heard her own voice say, “I think the fact that it was the polar opposite of bad, is what’s twisting her into fits. You have to admit, Severus—”

He waved a hand. “Yes, yes, I know.” He stood up from the bed, and put on the robe that had been hanging from the back of a chair. “It’s all so bizarre, I’ve heard you tell me the story many times, my dear.”

Hermione’s body scooted back to lean against the headboard. It felt cold against her back, and she shivered.

Snape came around her side of the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning close to her. “Miss Granger!” he roared suddenly. He watched his lover’s face dissipate into terror.

Remarkable. The consciousness of an eighteen year old girl was coexisting in the body of her twenty three year old counterpart. Apparently, he’d had such a forceful effect on the girl, that her awareness was now in control.

Time for a little payback.

“Miss Granger,” he said in a much softer tone, “I apologize for frightening you. However, you gave me quite the scare five years ago after your mishap with the Sight Out of Mind experiment. One can hardly believe,” he continued, while his hand came up and cupped around the nape of her neck, “all the events that have transpired since.”

Here brown eyes were wide and fixed on his face. Her breathing had quickened, he noticed, and become shallower. Her carotid pulse leaped under her jaw.

He let his hand drift across her nape and on up her neck. His thumb brushed the tender skin under her ear. He leaned in closer, now, playing the game for all it was worth. “There was a time when you would rather have died than let me touch you, remember?” His other hand rose to her right shoulder, massaged the tight muscles. “It seems to me…” His right hand fell to her breast and gently pinched the already stiff peak.

Her face had flushed and her eyes taken on a glassy appearance. “It seems to me, Miss Granger that you are enjoying what I’m doing to you.” Now both his hands worked on her nipples, the sheets she had been using to cover herself crumpled on the bed, leaving her open to him above the waist. “The question then, becomes this. Do I stop, or shall I continue?”

Hermione’s eyes flew open, and Snape had the feeling that she didn’t realize she’d shut them. Her lips parted, and he prepared himself for a nasty case of—

“Don’t stop,” she said, her voice thin as a reed. “It feels…”

He should be shocked, he supposed. But as he now had her express permission, and a dreadfully painful erection to deal with, not to mention, he allowed, when the older Hermione took control of her body back. He smiled, imagining the rage awaiting him. But he only said, “Yes, it does feel, doesn’t it?”

He took her mouth then, knowing exactly who he was kissing and not caring a bit. Hermione was Hermione was Hermione, and at this particular moment he was not about to split hairs. He also knew what the younger girl was going to do to his younger self when she got back and his sympathy lay squarely with himself.

She was kissing him back, though, with such innocent enthusiasm, that even if he wanted to, which he certainly did not, he would have been extremely hard pressed to do so. He slipped his arms behind her, and rolled backward on the bed, pulling her on top of him. She opened his robe, and squirmed on top of his erection. He felt her wet heat, and groaned.

She moved on top of him, thoroughly exciting and torturing him. When he was able to catch her eyes, he saw that the game was up—that was no virgin grinning down at him. “My love,” he said, cupping the side of her face.

She kissed his palm, and lifted her hips, catching him, then sliding back down upon his rigid length. She rocked upon him and taking his hand, drew it to her aching center. She leaned backwards, bending nearly in half, leaving herself open to him…exposed. He sat up so he could suckle her, never letting his fingers miss a stroke. Her nails dug ruthlessly into his shoulders leaving bloody half moons there.

Their mating was intense, and furious. Hermione, so close to her release, abruptly pivoted, tumbling Snape across their bed until he lay on top. He found her mouth again, and thrust deeply. His hips moved over hers, in a dance that was very nearly art. Her fingers fluttered between her legs. She took her pleasure for herself, tightening rhythmically on him. He cried out his release into her neck, and then they both stilled.

“Who are you?” His voice sounded raw.

The woman smiled, her face glowing with dampness. “Someone who loves you,” she answered.

~~~~~~~~~~

 Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t about to open them anytime soon. With any luck she would die, preferably from something other than humiliation. Possibly from horror, but then again, if anyone could die of pleasure, well, she had a shot at that, too.

She didn’t really understand what had just happened, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t really sure if she wanted to. But Professor Snape had touched her, kissed her and she…she had liked it. Wanted more, in fact. She groaned at that unhappy thought, and to her burgeoning horror, she heard his voice. Apparently, he had been sitting next to her, waiting for her to wake up.

Oh, God.

“Please,” she muttered.

Then his voice was right in her ear. “Please what, Miss Granger? Are you in pain?”

“I wish. Please, just kill me.”

“Open your eyes, you foolish child. I have been sitting here for some time, the least you can do is have to have the courtesy of looking at me when I speak to you.”

“Professor…trust me when I say…oh, never mind.” You’ll find out. The words danced on her tongue for such a long moment she was afraid that she might actually have said them. But he was just sitting there glaring as usual. Her gaze skipped down to his mouth, and then her mind became consumed with remembering the feel of that mouth on her lips, her neck, her breasts…

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Oh, god.” She waited for what seemed like forever till the only sound she heard was her own shallow breathing. She opened one eye and found Snape leaning over her.

“Boo.  Miss Granger, could we stop with these foolish games and discuss what happened in class this morning?”

“What time is it? Have I been unconscious for long?” Come to think of it, her mouth (that she had kissed him with) was strangely dry. Wishing idly for a toothbrush, she waited for him to continue.

“I must say, Miss Granger, that you certainly are an extremely odd girl.”  She opened her mouth in outrage, but he held up a hand to forestall her. “Perhaps you can explain to me where you’ve been all this time. And what you have been doing.”

“I wasn’t doing anyone. Anything!” she yelped. “I…” Her chin lifted. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re asking me Professor.”

He leaned in so close that she could actually see the line of demarcation around his pupils. “I know what you Gryffindors think of me, Miss Granger; however, I would appreciate it if you could kindly refrain from assuming I have the intellect of a two year old. Don’t you think I know what that Potion does? Please. Give me some measure of credit.”

“I’m…I’m sorry Sir.”

He grunted in answer. “Now. I assume your consciousness ended up in your future self, hmm?” Her eyes had widened, so continued. “See anything interesting?” She deteriorated into a fit of coughing. “Tell me, Miss Granger, did you manage to find out anything of use? Was Voldemort defeated? Is your dear friend Potter still alive in the future?”

Hermione felt miserable. Those were all things she should have checked out. It would have been a simple matter. “No, Sir. Again, I’m sorry.”

His black eyes were unreadable. “Sorry. I see.” His tone was as expressionless as a piece of slate.

“Professor, you don’t know what it was like! My…the other me, she…had company.” She finished miserably.

“Finally have a boyfriend in the future, do you?” He snorted. “Anyone I know?” His words were sarcastic, meant to wound, but Hermione only laughed.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I’m quite sure you know him. Very well. You might even say you two are…very close.”

“Really,” he said, bored. “So I take it I’m alive in the future. I don’t know whether that’s a relief or a disappointment.”

“Believe me,” she muttered, “You weren’t disappointed.”

“What does that mean, Miss Granger,” he demanded sharply.

Before she could answer, Madame Pomfrey arrived with Dumbledore in tow. “Severus, really. Interrogating the girl when she’s only just awoken.” She ran her wand over Hermione’s head, taking readings.

“How are you child,” Dumbledore asked. “You gave Professor Snape here quite a scare this morning.”

“Yes, I know,” she said automatically. Seeing Snape’s eyes narrow, she hastily added, “I figured he must be, what with me making such a scene in class.” She had to drop her gaze under the onslaught of compassion from the Headmaster.

“Professor Snape believes there may be value in finding out everything you discovered during your adventure, Miss Granger. How do you feel about that?”

Like I wish someone would please kill me, thank you very much for asking, Professor Dumbledore. “Oh, I don’t think I know anything. In fact, I’m sure of it.” She tried for airy but ended up with false cheer. At any rate, she knew, it was setting off Snape’s detective instincts.

“Perhaps,” Snape said, “Miss Granger and I could arrange a private meeting. I do believe the poor girl feels uncomfortable discussing this in front of such a large crowd.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. The tension had built up to such a level that something in her just snapped. She laughed out loud, and couldn’t stop. Not even with Snape sending poisoned daggers with his eyes, or with Dumbledore twinkling down at her. Poppy, who had gone off to take care of another patient, came bustling back with all due haste.

“She’s hysterical,” Snape said in disgust.

This statement sent her into further fits of giggles. “Oh, if you only knew,” she said without thinking. Her laughter died abruptly, as she realized that she was well and truly for it, now. Almost afraid, she wiped her eyes, and peeked up at her Potions teacher. He wore a perplexed expression, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. Well, that makes two of us, Professor. I certainly never expected I’d know-she shivered –what your mouth tastes like, or how it feels when you—

She had no idea what showed on her face, but Snape looked positively shocked to the gills. He sent a disbelieving look at the Headmaster and took his leave.

Dumbledore merely looked down at her for a long time. Hermione was about to apologize for something, everything, just to make him stop giving her such a searching gaze. Finally, he said, “Perhaps meeting privately with professor Snape is not such a bad idea, after all. What do you think, Hermione?”

Her face fell. But she remembered how safe it had felt to wake up curled around him. And he—he had looked so happy, and almost handsome, and the way he talked to her as if she was the most precious thing in the world…. Would it be so bad if that’s what the future held for her? For them? “Please don’t make me use a pensive, Headmaster. Honestly, I don’t know anything that would help anyone.”

“Now there, child, I believe you are mistaken more than you know.”

Chapter 3 >>