For the 2016 HP_Halloween Fest
Gift for: hbart
Title: A Spell Moste Potente
Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger
Disclaimer: Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Summary: Because, at Halloween, the magic was always a little stronger, and her desire was always a little deeper.
Notes: Special thanks to stgulik, who is the greatest beta alive. Her special touch, including the title, always manage to take my work to a level I could never achieve on my own. And to hbart, it was an honour writing for you. I truly hope you enjoy my little story of things that go bump in the night.
The Wizarding world gave you insight, a truer sense of the real and unreal, the seen and unseen. Hermione had always been a practical witch; she knew it was another old wives’ tale, created to frighten children.
This was just whimsy, a dare.
“Madness, more like,” she grumbled, trudging through the fallen leaves. “What do you possibly hope to accomplish, playing this silly game?”
Guarde thy Hearte, oh Woman wise!
Heedeth the Man, whose blackest Eyes
Hold thee in his Gaze of Luste,
Lest he breaketh thy Spirit’s Truste.
Walketh thou thrice round his Grave on Hallow’s Eve,
And if fell fingers pluck thy Sleeve,
His command thou willst obey,
Till Death takes thee on Judgement Day.
On her third circle around Severus Snape’s tomb, the hand closed over her arm. Hermione spun around, her cry of surprise dying to a whisper.
Haloed by the bloated, harvest moon, he could have been a demon, or an angel, or some sweet hybrid of both. Hermione stood entranced, lost in his liquid, languid black eyes.
He pulled her close, and whispered, “Come with me.” His soft voice was irresistible.
The longing within her recognised its mate, and she took his hand without fear.