Revelations

Chapter 2

By rhitmcshanm

Seventh year had hardly begun, and already Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Top Student, and Witch Extraordinaire was bored. Her unexciting summer had been spent curled up in a comfortable chair, nose buried in her books, and as a result, she was faced with an unexciting school year spent far ahead in all of her classes. And while Hermione liked to study and read,  a steady diet of both was growing tedious.

She wasn’t in a serious relationship—in fact, she wasn’t in  any kind of relationship of any type. And had no prospects for any, in any case. Not that she needed a boyfriend to flitter her time away with. She sighed and shut the book in front of her. Her restless eyes roamed the library looking for  inspiration, any inspiration, on what to do with all her extra hours. She  had read every book in the Arithmancy section and had found the books in the  History of Magic section to be far more interesting than Professor Binns. Her  eyes stopped on the Herbology section—one she hadn’t delved into very thoroughly, and like clockwork, her mind began to tick.  Herbology—plants—animals—animagus!  I could learn to be an animagus! Brilliant! She thought excitedly.

Hermione hurried over to the section of the library where the  books on animagi were kept. She had looked the section over during her second  year but needed some refreshing. Finding the one she wanted, she pulled it out  and took it over to her table, doing her best to appear inconspicuous. She  didn’t want anyone to know what she was doing.

After reading the first chapter of the book, Hermione sat  back and thought hard. The first two hundred pages of the book were filled with warnings and horror stories about those who had failed. Incidents included those that had only managed a halfway transformation and were forced to live out the  rest of their lives as half-human/half-animal freaks. Most retired to homes deep  in isolation though several found lucrative careers in the circus industry. Other horror stories were about those who got stuck in the animal state and had  to spend their lifespan as someone’s pet.

She understood now just how difficult it was to become an  animagi. A witch needed to have power, self-discipline, and desire. Hermione  knew she had enough power to accomplish her goal, and years of studying had  taught her self-discipline. But she was afraid she didn’t have enough desire to achieve the transformation.

Hermione thought about the people she knew were animagi. Rita  Skeeter, the beetle. Hermione thought about the requirements and ticked off in her mind how Rita had managed. Yes, the woman has power—misused, but viable. She must have some self-discipline—just not in relation to her work and creating lies she feels will sell. And as for desire…there is no better way to spy on a person than the one she found. The other animagi she knew also fit the bill. Sirius was powerful, not very disciplined—but since the transformation  had been for his friends, he probably had pulled himself together, and he had the need to help his friend. The same went for James Potter and that horrible rat Peter Pettigrew.

With a shrug, Hermione decided to put the desire requirement away until she was actually ready to try the transformation. Perhaps after  studying the subject for a few months, she would have the need to have it work so her time was not a waste. Satisfied with her solution, she continued to read the book. The year might not be as tedious as she had first thought.

<<*>><<*>>

Three months later, Hermione sat on the floor of her room in front of her mirror. This night was the night. All the reading, all the  preparation, she had done on becoming an animagus would pay off—or not—tonight.  To her surprise, she had discovered that a person could not choose their  form--it was chosen by personality. It made sense when she thought about that in relationship to those animagi that she knew. Sirius was a big dog of a person; McGonagall’s quiet and curious manner was definitely that of a feline, and Rita Skeeter was an insect if she had ever met one. Hermione tried to get an idea of what her form would be but was unable to come to a definite conclusion. She was  curious like a cat, but did not have the self-centered personality of a cat. She  was friendly like a dog, but a dog did things that didn’t bear thinking about.  With a sigh, she realized she would just have to take her chances.

Closing her eyes and beginning the deep concentration  exercises, Hermione readied herself for the change. The months of study had  definitely instilled her with the desire to see this challenge through. Taking a  deep calming breath, she licked her lips and prepared to begin. She felt around,  deep inside herself and drew upon the pool of magic she found there. The power tingled across all of her nerves in an oddly sensual way, and she could feel her  body become liquid, flowing, altering its form. She kept her concentration firmly on the magic she was using, determined to not get stuck halfway. The tingling increased, and her breath caught in her throat as a sensation close to  an orgasm built in her entire body. It grew and expanded until she was sure she  could take no more of the painful pleasure. Finally, in an explosion of invisible light, the sensations stopped. If that is what McGonagall feels  every time she transforms…Hermione thought, reeling from the stimulation.  Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and her mind was able to function  again. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror to see her new form.

She almost passed out from the shock.

No, she thought frantically, it can’t be! It  bloody well can’t be! Her mind was a chaotic mess as she tried to take in what had happened to her. She tried to shout out her denial, but all the form in the mirror did was squeak in terror. Shaking her head, she was dismayed to see the image do the same. It really was true. Realizing that she could not—could  not—stay in her current form, she gathered the tatters of her self-control and quickly changed back into her normal body. She gasped for breath, trying  with all her might to come to terms with her new form. There had to have been some mistake; she had bungled some part of the transformation. That was the  explanation. It had to be. There was no way that Hermione Granger was going to keep that alternate form!

McGonagall! Her frantic, panicked mind latched onto the one person in the school who might be able to provide some direction. She  glanced at the timepiece, and deciding that it wasn’t too late, ran out  of her room toward the House Head’s.

As she flew down the halls, several of the paintings called  out to her, reminding her that school rules frowned upon running in the  hallways. She paid them no mind. She brushed by Peeves—half pushing him into a wall, barely noticing that the irate poltergeist was throwing insults after her  rapidly disappearing figure. She only slowed down when she was a few meters from McGonagall’s door. Taking a deep, calming breath and smoothing down her disheveled hair, she knocked sedately on the door.

“Come in!” a faint voice called from the room.

Hermione pushed the heavy wood door open and walked into her professor’s private quarters. Minerva McGonogall sat in a comfortable-looking  chair by the fire, and though it was likely very near her bedtime, she looked no  different than she did at seven in the morning or at eight in the evening. Robes immaculate, not a hair out of place, and a solemn expression on her face. “Miss  Granger,” the older woman said, putting her book down, “what can I do for you?”

“I…that is...I just have some questions,” Hermione replied,  unsure how to begin.

Minerva waved her to a seat and said, “Please sit down. Would  you like some tea?” Hermione took the proffered chair and refused the tea with a polite shake of her head, but still didn’t say anything. “Now, what is on your  mind this late in the evening?” The Head of Gryffindor House was never one to dance around a subject.

“I was wondering…rather, I was thinking about becoming an  animagus,” Hermione decided that a little deception was in order. No need to  mention that she already was one. “And I have read some of the books on  the subject, but I was…wanting a more personal view.”

Minerva’s face broke into a rare smile. It was no real secret  that Hermione Granger was one of her favorite students, and the fact that the young woman seemed to want to follow in her footsteps...it made her all the more  endearing. “Ask anything you like, dear,” Minerva said, taking a sip of her tea.

“Well…I suppose…why did you want to become an animagi?”

“That is easy to answer,” Minerva said. “I loved Transfiguration, and animagism is another form of the subject. Transfiguration of the self.”

Hermione nodded, having expected this answer. Now for the  important question. But make it seem not-so-important. She licked her lips and  asked, “The form you take…is it set in stone? I mean, once you have transformed  once, can you ever become a different animal?”

“No, my dear,” Minerva said solemnly. “Which, I suppose is why most do not attempt the transformation until they are old enough to have their personality set. Just think if one transformed when one was a callous youth and was stuck with that form as a serious adult. No, once a form is  assumed it is quite permanent.” She fell silent, quietly contemplating what she  had just said.

Hermione nodded sadly and stood up saying, “Well, I have kept  you long enough, Professor. Thank you for taking the time to talk with me; you have given me much to think about.”

It was a quiet, dejected Hermione that made her way back to  the Gryffindor Tower.

Once in the privacy of her room, she sat down on her bed and pulled Crookshanks into her arms. For once in her life, Hermione Granger, the  girl with all the answers, was at a loss at what to do. She was an animagus with a completely useless form. She would never, never live down the embarrassment if she entered her name and form in the registered lists. And her form would always be the one she had faced in the mirror not an hour ago. Her distinguishing characteristic was all too obvious to anyone who looked. Not only could the form  get her killed, it could land her in far worse situations and places than she had ever been in. Some time later, her contemplations done, Hermione decided that never again would she transform into her animagus form.

Her resolve lasted all of two days. Then the boredom set in  again.  Reluctantly, she began the exercises and transformed again. The sensations were quicker and muted this time to her relief. She wanted her mind  on what she was doing and not humming with arousal. Slowly, she examined her new  body, centimeter by centimeter. It wasn’t so terrible, really, when she considered it logically. She might, with time, get used to the form. And despite the obvious drawbacks it had, it did have the bonus of being nearly invisible to  the witches and wizards who ran the school. She would be able to explore passages and rooms that Harry and Ron never dreamed existed. Again she contemplated her new image. With a nod of her head, she resolved to make the most of what fate had thrown her way.

She spent whatever free time she had over the next few weeks learning the limitations and the extents of her new body. She was small enough  to fit into most places, yet big enough not to be stepped on. She practiced  until the mannerisms that were a part of the form became almost instinctual. She had to relearn how to walk and move properly while in the form, but soon, she  was satisfied that she would be able to pass inspection. No one would be able to tell by looking at her that she was a witch in a different body. And so, she  began to explore the castle at night.

<<*>><<*>>

“Who’s there?” a voice called out of the darkness in the hallway.

Hermione froze. She easily recognized the voice and realized that if she were found nosing around in the dungeons late at night, nothing would save her from Snape’s wrath. Even the Head Girl was subject to school  discipline when wandering the halls at two in the morning.

She panicked. She knew he hadn’t seen her clearly—the hall had almost no light and she had huddled deep in the shadows the moment he spoke. He must have heard her foot slip on the stone step. Quickly, seeing no other course of action, she transformed into her animagus form.

“I said, who is there?” Snape’s voice was heavy with anger. 

Cautiously, Hermione stepped out of the shadows.  The  lack of recognition on his face caused some of the tension to leave her shoulders. She had succeeded in her first trial. There were possibilities  inherent in the form. She just had to learn how to use it to the best of her  ability. Wiggling her pointy green ears and shuffling her feet in her over-sized  socks, she squeaked, “I…I is Lemmy, sir. Is you wanting for something?”

<<*>><<*>>

“Lemmy!” Severus Snape exclaimed as his wife finished her  tale. “You…you are Lemmy?” he choked out. “The little…bushy haired…house elf  that I…but…” He realized he should have put two and two together. No other house elf had hair quite like Lemmy did—in fact, most didn’t have more than six  hairs.

Hermione smiled slightly, knowing how flummoxed her husband  was. He had been relying on the House Elf Lemmy for some time. Lemmy had always  been there with a freshly laundered robe, a glass of alcohol, or a heated meal.  Or just a listening ear.

Severus was quiet for a moment, pondering. Idly, he ran his  finger up and down Hermione’s arm while he thought. “Is that how you knew  that I always like my brandy in that crystal decanter?” he finally asked. “And,”  his voice grew quieter, “how after passing out from pain upon returning from a  Dark Revel, I would find myself in bed, wounds tended to?”

His wife nodded slowly and said, “You would never ask for  help from anyone—especially a bossy, know-it-all, former Gryffindor. You had  made self-reliability an art. But if I just…happened…to show up…” She shrugged. “House elves are invisible here—-no one asks questions of them.”

“And…” his voice was uncharacteristically hushed, “how the Resistance knew exactly where Voldmort was hiding in Malfoy’s house? You disappeared a few months before that was discovered…” His voice was carefully neutral but his eyes were accusing as he began to understand how much she had  kept from him. They hadn’t been together at the time, but the fact that she had done what she had done…

Hermione nodded solemnly, eyes locked in her husband’s. “I was even more invisible there. They didn’t even notice a new house elf. One more creature to do their work, one more to order around, one more to… abuse.” She shrugged looking away, not quite able to hide the pain the memories of that dark  time brought up. Severus’ gentle hand on hers made her look up at him. She could  see the pain in his eyes as he learned what she had done. She smiled weakly at him and said, “We all made sacrifices, Severus.”

He blinked, finally realizing the magnitude of the contribution she had made to the war effort. She never ceased to amaze him. “Thank you,” he said as he gently caressed her cheek. “For everything. And thank  Lemmy for me too,” he added with a smile. The tender moment was broken when he  began to chuckle low in his throat. Hermione suspected he was laughing at  her—trying to break the tension. It worked. She was proven correct when he finally managed to get out, “How is it that your animagus form was a house elf?  I thought you hated what they represent!”

She scowled at him and muttered, “Personality.”

He delicately cocked an eyebrow and gestured her to further  enlighten him. Still, after three years of marriage, he retained many of his classroom mannerisms.

Hermione sighed and said in a voice that told him exactly how  much a burden explaining it to him was, “My personality. Seventh year I was still intent on helping everyone no matter the cost. I was very subservient to  Harry and Ron and all my professors. Everything had to be just so. Doubtless  that got translated into my form. House Elves are known for cleanliness,  orderliness, and subservience.” She rolled her eyes as he started to laugh  again. “Though, I am proud to say that the transformation was what actually  encouraged me to grow a backbone. And I don’t think you should forget that!” she admonished her husband.

“How could I?” he asked. “Such a lovely backbone it is too,” he breathed on her skin, but did not touch her.

She cleared her throat impatiently.

“Yes?” he asked, in his silkiest and most seductive  voice.

“I believe I have completed my part of our bargain. And you  have fulfilled yours,” she said.

“And…?” He wasn’t letting her off the hook.

“Wasn’t there something you were in the middle of?” she  asked, her voice pleading, eyes filled with desire.

“Mrs. Snape,” Severus growled in his best  ‘why-am-I-forced-to-teach-these-dunderheads’ voice, “Could you please say what you mean to say and stop this needless dancing around the subject? What is it that you are suggesting?”

 Hermione put on her best ‘innocent-as-a-Hufflepuff’ look and said, “I was just going to say that I love you.” His eyes darkened as  she said that and sparked when she continued, “And that I really enjoying our…relationship. All aspects of it,” her voice was husky as she said this. In a more normal, slightly exasperated tone, she finished, “Before the story got in  the way, that is.”

“Oh, were you recalling something like this?” Severus  rumbled, starting to place tiny kisses along her body. She sighed in  pleasure.

“Exactly like,” she managed to say. She closed her eyes and  smiled as she basked in the presence of her loving husband.

Suddenly her eyes flew open, and she jerked upright.

“What’s wrong?” Severus asked his voice humming with concern.  He sat up and turned his fearful eyes to his wife.

She looked at him, eyes bright with joy. “The baby,” she whispered, “kicked me.”

His face lit up. His normally severe and uncompromising  features were transformed as he reverently placed a hand on the gentle swelling of her abdomen. The baby kicked again.

Hermione knew that if she happened to have the Mirror of Eisred in front of her, and she looked into it, the scene it would show would just be a reflection of the room. She snuggled up to her husband and closed her eyes, allowing his gentle stroking of her stomach to sooth her to sleep. She was  contented and completely happy and knew that somehow, Bob and Lemmy would have a  wonderful life. Together.

  The End