For All Intents and Purposes

Disclaimer: Don’t own it

Edited (and much, much more) by thyme_is_a_cat

Chapter 14 – No Time Like the Present

Hermione drifted slowly through a dream. She had known it to be a dream from the start in that way a dreamer does when the situation is simply too ridiculous to be real. However, she passively let it flow around her, acknowledging the dream-state and letting that thought drift away.

She was lying on a table or gurney; whatever, it was hard and smelled of stale sweat. Luna sat at her side, holding up photo after photo of Draco Malfoy: as a baby drooling on a bib with ducks dancing around the trim; as a toddler smearing powder blue frosting on the bald head of a house-elf; as a child posing proudly in a miniature version of the dress robes that Severus, who was standing awkwardly next to him, also wore. Dream Hermione commented that they both looked quite dashing, and Luna nodded, smiling wistfully. Photo Severus blushed but stood up straighter, and Draco beamed, spinning to give his audience a full view. The next few photos were of an adolescent Draco – she could tell by his ever-increasing height. However, they were blurred, and the color was off, like underdeveloped Polaroids.

“Nothing happens that isn’t meant to happen,” Luna said as she shook one of the photos that was particularly indistinct. “It will work itself out.”

And then Ron wrapped his arms around Luna’s waist and pecked her gently on the cheek, pulling her back and out of the dream with kisses that became more passionate and insistent as they faded away. She had enough time to think, ‘Ron and Luna? Never,’ before Lupin leaned over her, an earnest smile on his face and two brown, furry dog ears rising out of his hair. Reaching out, she rubbed one ear and marveled at its softness.

“Could I please hump your leg?” he asked politely. “I promise I won’t—”

He cut off with a yelp of pain as Severus bit down on the unoccupied ear, tearing thin skin. The men tumbled onto her, growling and snapping with long, sharp fangs. They weren’t as heavy as they should have been, and she easily pushed them off her and into a twisting, snarling heap. Severus pulled the Starglass out of a pocket and then grabbed Lupin’s jaw, forcing his head back and his mouth open. Just before he tipped the black tar slopping around at the bottom of the phial into Lupin’s mouth, Hermione snatched it out of his hands. It became an old, yellowing, rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, and she used it to whack each man sharply on the nose, snapping, “Knock it off!”

And abruptly woke up.

Then immediately wished she hadn’t.

Her head throbbed, the pain emanating from a point in the back of her skull that was presently pressed against a hard bed that smelled of stale sweat. Severus and Lupin were bickering in the background, adding an unpleasant soundtrack to the pounding of her pulse in her ears.

“Knock it off,” she groaned, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyeballs. Amazingly, the two men silenced, but a shuffling sound approached her.

“Heidi, are you alright?” Lupin voice asked tentatively. Metal clanked against metal, and the rustling sound ceased.

“Of course she’s not alright. The draught that they gave her was probably brewed by some Ministry dunderhead that barely passed Potions,” Severus drawled, but his voice didn’t have the bite that it usually did.

“She might not have needed it if you hadn’t fallen on her.”

“And I suppose that whimpering in a ball on the floor was your idea of help?”

Lupin’s voice took on a plaintive note. “That alarm was deafening me! My ears are sensitive, especially…” He trailed off into silence.

Hermione cracked an eye open just to be sure that his ears weren’t still fuzzy and pointed. She felt a faint disappointment that they weren’t, but that was immediately crushed by the rush of panic inspired by the sight of Lupin’s face pressed against thick, steel bars as he stared anxiously at her. Haggard and pale, he was squatting on the floor of a poorly lit stone room, separated from her by bars that ran from floor to ceiling. Severus was standing next to him with one shoulder propped against the bars, his face lost in shadows and black hair. A tiny window near the ceiling let in the wan light of a bloated moon. Each cell had one cot, a jug and a shallow basin. There were no doors Hermione could see; just two stone rooms separated by bars. It didn’t take much effort to gather that they were in jail.

“Fuck.” She seldom used the word aloud, but felt it was warranted in this situation.

“That about sums it up,” Severus said without sarcasm for a change.

“How long have I been out?” she asked as she eased herself in to a sitting position. Her head ached, but she was tired of smelling rank sweat every time she inhaled.

“Several hours,” Lupin said, flexing his fingers around the bars. “You hit your head pretty badly, and they gave you a potion to help with the concussion.”

She winced as she fingered the knot on the back of her head. It was wet, crusty, and her hair was matted into it. It also hurt like a bastard, and she had the feeling that Severus was correct in his assessment of the brewer’s skills. There was also a tender spot over her ribs, but she couldn’t evaluate the damage without lifting her robes. She gave it a tentative prod and gasped in pain.

“That was Snape’s elbow,” Lupin supplied helpfully. Severus snorted, but the sound had an odd, whistling quality and was immediately followed by a pained grunt and a sniffle.

“But, Severus,” Hermione said before he felt the need to inflict his elbow on Lupin, “how did we get caught? Aren’t you,” she searched for the right word for a moment, “prepared for things like this?”

“If you are referring to my brief tenure with the Death Eaters,” he drawled the word with distaste, and Hermione cringed, “then let me remind you that I would have had a proper team instead of a woman intent on splashing the floor with her brains and a pathetic excuse for werewolf!” He sniffled again wetly.

“When he tripped over you, his hex went wide,” Lupin explained. “Several Aurors came through the door and Bound us before we could regroup.”

“What’s wrong with your nose, Severus?” Hermione asked when he snuffed again. His face was still hidden, even though her eyes had adjusted somewhat to the dim light.

“One of the Aurors accidentally found my face in the way of his foot. Repeatedly.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that, so she let her eyes travel up the wall to the tiny window. The fat, yellow moon filled her with a sense of wrongness, though she couldn’t quite pin it down. Her head was throbbing hard enough to liquefy her thoughts.

“So, we’re in London, then?”

“No, Canterbury has its own little holding tank.”

“But they can’t leave us in here for long, can they? We should get a trial, and then we can explain about the stolen property… What?”

Lupin had slumped down as if trying to curl in on himself. Severus sighed harshly and sniffed, then took a seat in front of the bars, crossing his legs. Finally, she could see his face. He had a black eye, a bruised and swollen lip crusted with blood, and his hooked nose was slightly crooked. Thin trickles of blood were leaking from both nostrils, and he sniffed, dabbing at it with his sleeve. She rose from the cot and staggered over to the bars, using them as leverage against the rising dizziness. Careful to not upset her precarious balance, she eased onto the floor to sit across from Severus.

“We won’t get a trial,” he said calmly, staring at her with deep, black eyes.

“But, we have to get a trial…” she began to protest until something clicked into place. She glanced at Lupin’s huddled figure. With rising horror, she looked back out the window at the moon, one night from full. “But…”

“They know.”

“They can’t do this,” she whispered.

“They will.”

---

In the manner of a penny-dreadful villain, their jailor had explained the whole rotten affair only an hour after they had been locked up. Hermione wished she had been awake, if only to have made witty ripostes as a proper heroine should (she thought with a slightly hysterical giggle that earned her a foul look from Severus). Apparently, not only did the chief of the Canterbury Auror division know about the stolen goods sold at “Curiouser and Curiouser,” he got kickbacks for looking the other way and providing the occasional strong arm when things went pear-shaped. It hadn’t taken them long to identify Lupin as one of the supplier’s Runners (there was only one werewolf working for them, after all), and they didn’t care to know whom Severus or Hermione were. Plausible deniability, she supposed.

Their plan was simple: lock the undesirables in a fortified cell with a werewolf just before the full moon, and let nature take its course. She had been horrified to learn that she would have to watch one friend eat the other, but upon mentioning this to Severus, he assured her that the bars were removable. They would both get eaten, and Lupin would be put down as a menace to society.

As daylight crept in through the tiny window, halfheartedly trying to chase the shadows out of their cells and giving it up as a lost cause, Severus sat leaning against the bars and thought of death. His death and Heidi’s death, at the jaws of one of his schoolmates. He had escaped that fate once before at school, acquiring a life-debt to a shit of a boy and learning, once again, that authority figures had their favorites, and he wasn’t one of them.

Running his fingers through Heidi’s hair, he watched as one springy curl twisted around his fingers, stopping his progress. She was leaning against the bars dozing again, her head very nearly touching his shoulder. Her hair was dirty and snarled, but this particular lock he had combed through until it was a frizzy mass… except for the one curl. Patiently, he unwound it and separated the strands, working his fingers through it until there was no further resistance.

They had spent the final hours before dawn hashing and rehashing methods of escape. He and Lupin had done this very thing as she had slept, and though she had several new ideas, none of them were feasible. The room was tightly sealed; not even the window was a true egress. It had repelled the boot that he had thrown at it, leaving it singed and smoking. The Aurors had opened doorways in the stone cell walls to toss them in, but the doors had vanished into the walls after they had left. His collection of potions had been confiscated along with their wands and personal effects. No one would miss them until term started in a week, and by then it would be much too late. Their jailors could not be roused by any amount of yelling and hadn’t even seen fit to feed them. The bottom line was that they were wandless, trapped, and waiting to die.

Severus had always thought that he would die at the hands of the Dark Lord or a Death Eater at the very least. Executed as a spy or the like. He might have welcomed it a year ago, but now… he was more than a little reluctant.

Heidi had been insistent that they would figure something out.

“Severus, you can’t give up! You’re going to do great things, I know it! We’ll get out of this alive.”

He had scoffed, but when she had reached for him through the bars, he had shifted closer until they sat shoulder to shoulder with her hand clutching one of his. For all her bravado, he knew that she was terrified. So was he.

Her hand still rested in his, the slender fingers relaxed and the skin cool. Pulling his other hand out of her hair, he traced the ridge of her knuckles with his thumb, noting the slightly chapped texture. Too much broom riding without gloves, he supposed. He should have thought of that earlier, when it would have made a difference.

Surprisingly for a man who tended to hold grudges with the tenacity of a bulldog, he was no longer angry with her for her deceit. From the moment the alarm had sounded in that accursed shop, concern for her well-being had overridden everything else. Not that it would do her any good in the long run, but he certainly felt better about it. His cruel words and harsh treatment of her now seemed like a foolish waste of time. To think that his last flight could have been spent with a warm, caring woman snuggled against him, but he had wasted it by pushing her away. Idiocy.

“Snape!” Lupin hissed at him from a corner in the cell. He was sitting with his back against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest.

Severus grunted in reply, still caressing her roughened knuckles. He didn’t care that Lupin was watching him. His tolerance of Lupin had seen a drastic change in the past few hours as well. The enmity and old wounds that had lasted through their school years and into adulthood seemed to pale in importance when compared to imminent murder and death. Their quarrel had been all but abandoned while they had tested the limits of their cage and discussed means of escape, and they had struck an uneasy truce. He refused to call it bonding.

The werewolf sighed heavily, pulling Severus from his thoughts. “Look, Snape… I just wanted to say…”

“Spit it out, Lupin,” he said resignedly, not really in the mood for an argument. Maybe in a few minutes, but not now.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“How touching. The werewolf is sorry. Save your breath; apologizing certainly won’t help.” Bitterness crept into his voice. This was the man who would be attempting to eat them in a few hours, whether he felt bad about it now or not.

“Not that, though I’m sorry about that too…” He trailed off and then shook his head, a determined expression settling on his face. “I meant about our behavior in school. I knew that it was wrong, how they ganged up on you, but I never did anything to stop them. I was a lousy Prefect. And I would never have guessed that they would have led you to me in my changed form.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry.”

A silence fell over the cell until Severus barked a short, humorless laugh and smiled wryly, threading his fingers between Heidi’s. “Ah, but it was hatred at first sight, wasn’t it?”

Lupin grinned lopsidedly. “That it was. And you were a right bastard with a mean hex.”

“I still am.” It was as much of an apology or forgiveness as he was inclined to give, and Lupin seemed to understand that.

“It’s odd how we all turned out,” Lupin said finally, running his hand against the sharp, brown stubble on his cheeks. “The darlings of Gryffindor: two murdered at the hands of their friends and two imprisoned. Who would have thought? Your path made much more sense…”

“Which part, becoming a Death Eater or betraying the Dark Lord?” He had to admit that it was an odd conversation. At any other time, he would have long since given Lupin a verbal lashing and perhaps a hexing to boot. It was surreal, oddly cathartic and helped keep the panic at bay.

“Both, I suppose. You really loved her, didn’t you?”

Severus caught his breath a moment, shocked into speechlessness. He’d guarded that secret for years; as far as he knew, only Dumbledore had been aware… and the Dark Lord. It could only have been speculation on the werewolf’s part, but at the moment, he felt little reluctance to admit it. What would it matter now? “Yes.”

Lupin nodded. “I don’t blame you. She was something else.” It was Severus’ turn to nod. “What about her?”

Severus gazed down at the curly head of hair pressed against the bars. Her head wound had left a flat spot where the hair had stuck to the scab. Sometime during their trip, she had taken out the elaborately coifed style that Madam had coaxed it into and let it run rampant down her back. It was impossible hair, really, and if his nose wasn’t broken and aching, then he would have buried it in that matted rat’s nest of curls and breathed her in.

What about her? In the spirit of being brutally honest, he had to consciously admit that his feelings for Heidi had transcended friendship and lust, though he hesitated to label them for what they might be. That she had become so very precious to him in so short a time was frightening.

“I’m fucked,” he said, in lieu of an answer, but Lupin seemed to understand that, too.

“There could be worse things,” he sighed.

They were silent for a long while. Morning had come, and it was fast approaching noon when Lupin spoke again.

“Snape!”

“What?” he snapped.

“If you kill me before the moon rises, then it will buy you more time.”

They had discussed this option already, and Severus had to admit to being tempted, though not as much as he had expected. He wasn’t denying that he wouldn’t mind seeing the wolf suffer a bit at his hands, but he had never had the stomach for murder. Unfortunately, if Lupin wasn’t killed, then there was a high probability that he would kill them instead. Then there were the Aurors, who fully intended that he and Hermione not leave the Canterbury station alive. So, it was kill and be killed… but he quailed at the thought of cutting down a man on his knees, pleading for death. Though it would be much more difficult, he would rather face Lupin in a fair fight, even if he were in his wolf form. His honor, something Dumbledore had mentioned he lacked, prevented it. However, he wasn’t about to explain this to Lupin.

“So that they can starve us to death?” As if to make a point, Severus’ stomach growled audibly.

“It might attract their attention, bring them into the cells. You could ambush them.”

Severus eyed him narrowly. The only other time they had caught a glimpse of their jailor was when he had come in to gloat about their fate. Though caught off guard, he and Lupin had lunged for him, only to be repulsed by an invisible, magically charged barrier before they got too close. They had both dropped to the floor, twitching violently from the jolt. The barrier had dissipated after the Auror had left. “Yes, because we were so very successful last time.”

“Are you just going to give up and die?” Lupin yelled suddenly, shooting to his feet. “I don’t want to eat her! And, though I would happily punch you right now, I don’t want to eat you, either!”

“Who is going to eat whom?” Heidi asked mussily, shifting her shoulders against the bars and squeezing his hand.

Severus directed a nasty smile at the werewolf, who was pacing the small room and tearing at his hair. “Lupin is going to eat us, my dear.”

Rounding on them, Lupin shouted, “Not if you kill me first!” He started pacing again at Heidi’s horrified gasp.

“No one is going to kill or eat anyone!” She tried to pull away, but he held her fast, unwilling to let her go. Leaning back against him, she reached through the bars for his other hand and held them both on one of his thighs. “We are going to get through this. Come on, now. What haven’t we thought of yet?”

---

Daylight bled out of the little window, creeping up the wall and trailing darkness like a thick, black cloak. Hermione sat against the wall with her legs stretched out in front of her, watching it with unbelieving eyes. She couldn’t understand how it had come to this and was still waiting for someone to jump out and yell, “Surprise!” Where was Dumbledore, or the Order, or Lucius Malfoy, for heaven’s sake? Weren’t they always showing up at unexpected times, wreaking havoc or pulling their arses out of the fire? One would think that Dumbledore would keep an eye on Severus, at the very least, because of his amazing capacity for mixing with the wrong crowd. How ironic that she could now be considered the “wrong crowd.”

They couldn’t die. Couldn’t. How would the world change without the influence of these two men? Was everything lost? Hermione refused to believe it.

Laying flat on his back with the top of his head pressed against the bars by her hip, his hands folded on his chest and his ankles crossed, Severus resignedly watch the day wan, musing that he had never gotten to kiss the woman next to him. He didn’t deserve to, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. This wasn’t the time and place to think about it, however. He should be gearing himself up for hand-to-hand combat with a werewolf. It was just a pity he couldn’t do those mental exercises with his head in her lap. Then again, if he could put his head in her lap, then he wouldn’t just lay there.

He let several rather lascivious fantasies play behind his eyes, indulging in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before. He did not permit himself to feel guilty. Lily would understand or wouldn’t care (to be perfectly honest, for she had chosen another), and she wasn’t here. That guilt he did feel, more as a dull ache than a withering heat, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to…

Ah, well. It was pointless to dwell on it; the shadows had enveloped the cells, and the lonely patch of sky through the window was now an ominous shade of indigo. He was bone-weary, aching, and although he would put up a good fight when Lupin finally transformed, he was somewhat resigned to dying. Heidi he would protect with tooth and nail, but he was pragmatic, if not downright pessimistic, and he held no real hope for escape. And, Heidi’s fingers felt delicious against his prickly jaw line, one ragged nail scratching absently at his five o’clock shadow. It tickled, but not enough to bother him. In fact, it would bother him much more if she stopped. He was shamefully glad that Lupin had chosen to sit as far away from them as possible, on the off chance that she wanted to pet him as well.

Huddled in the darkest corner, Lupin sat with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head buried, as if he could hide away from the rising moon. Severus felt a momentary pang of pity for the man; he was well familiar with the despair of knowing that one is the cause of the harm that would befall a friend. At least he had had the opportunity to undo his mistake, for all the good it had done her.

‘Fancy that,’ he thought with a self-deprecating smile. ‘I’ve got something in common with the beast.’ The epithet had lost much of its rancor, and he was even more amazed that they seemed to have come to some sort of understanding. ‘Wouldn’t Dumbledore be proud?’

He sighed and sent the old man a long, conflicted thought. A thank you for accepting him back into the Light and a curse for failing to keep Lily safe; a regret he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his debt to the Potter brat and gladness that he would not have to see the Dark Lord rise again. Most of all, he wished that he could have had the chance to prove that he wasn’t the hopeless lowlife that Dumbledore believed him to be.

”You disgust me,” he’d said that harrowing night on the hilltop when he’d begged for Lily’s protection. It still rang harshly in his ears.

“Erm, Severus?” More than her voice, Heidi’s hand leaving his cheek drew him out of his thoughts. “Your jacket is glowing.” Reaching until her shoulder was wedged between the bars, she gingerly touched a spot on his chest that glowed faintly luminescent through his sable jacket.

In his corner, Lupin whimpered softly.


A/N: Thanks to all of you for your feedback!