Of Days and Ends

A/N: Thank you to my ever faithful top reviewers. I am always so excited to read your reviews, and you are getting so cunning with them. You are loved:



1) catysmom

2) sslover

2) Jen618

3) Sureves Epans

3) Sampdoria

3) Juno Magic

3) meankitty 69

3) openthedoor

4) CB13

4) Perservero

4) slytherin-princess

4) PyroAngel

4) Johanna3030

I would like to extend an additional thank you to nanoq, Dresoul, Kimberly1983, and teenertots for the kindness of your reviews.

~~~~~~~~





Chapter 15—Safety of Home



Her mother and father lay panting on the floor of the Snape family library where they landed without much grace. Hermione stood up, looked around and said, “Mum, Dad, we’re safe.”



“What just happened?” Her father rasped.



“I don’t know.”



“Don’t you have an idea?” Her mother insisted.



“I’m not perfectly sure, but I think my affiliation with Severus just saved our lives.” Hermione stood and lit a fire in the hearth. Her head throbbed from where her hair had been grabbed.



“But how could he have been helping us if he hurt us?”



“We’ll have to wait and see what was going on.”



“He destroyed our home!”



“I think he was trying to keep someone out.”



“But—and he tortured your father! Why did he tortu—”



“I DON’T KNOW!” she shouted, her frustration getting the best of her for a moment. Out of their depth, her parents fell silent and she took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I just—I think I need to go talk to someone who has known him much longer than I have.”



Hermione stood to leave and her mother shouted, “WAIT! Where are you going? Didn’t he send us here? What if he comes back?” She clung to Mr. Granger’s arm with worry, and Hermione didn’t miss the reassuring squeeze he gave her despite the fact that he was still pale with fear.



Running her hands through her hair, she realised for the first time that her scalp was bleeding. “I can’t think…” Her sharp mind was clouded with theories, questions, pain, and emotions. “Er—” The immediate danger was over, but her heart was still racing. “Follow me!” She ordered, ignoring the uncertainty in her conscience as she led her parents to the bedroom next to Severus’ and warded the door against intrusion.



Turning towards the stairs, she took a deep breath and disapparated to the door of the dungeons, swooning when she arrived. She stared at the door, losing confidence. What would she have to say to get information out of Lucius? With one forceful sigh, she rallied her famous Gryffindor courage and shoved open the door to the dungeons. Stepping in, the row of lanterns roared to life in succession leading to Lucius’ cell.



She followed the row of cells as silently as she could until the torches stopped flaring to life and she found herself standing in front of a cell with a tower of bones in the far corner near the window that was at least five meters high. The moon light cast a pale beam on the wizard who stood behind the bars with his wand twirling in between his fingers. It gave her an added sense of security to know that he could even have his wand and not get out of the ancient cell.



“Ah… still around, are we, mudblood?”



“Mr. Malfoy.” She replied coolly.



“Let me guess, you are here because our dear Severus has committed his first rape on your watch.”



“First?”



“Of course not. Just the first since he’s been fucking you.” He was being deliberately vulgar and emphasized each word, but Hermione was hardly fazed by it.



“Oh, I know.” She rushed, refocusing on the task at hand. He started to give some stupid unnecessary response, but she cut him off. “Look, I wouldn’t even be down here if it weren’t for the fact that he’s not working for us. I think he’s still working for Voldemort.” She knew that no such thing was true, but hoped it would stimulate the right discussion.



He furrowed his brows at her, “What do you think this is? My vacation home?”



“Look! All I know is he’s not working for us.” She gritted her teeth in frustration with his attitude.



Lucius looked pensive, “He’s gone rogue again.”



“What do you mean, ‘again’?”



Seeming to come out of his trance, Lucius looked up at Hermione and smiled slowly. It would have been a creepy smile, except that he didn’t seem to have the ability to look anything but handsome. That realization was rather unsettling to her, but she resisted his charm when he silkily commanded, “Let me out.”



“I think not, Lucius. I’ll work with you, but I don’t trust you enough yet.”



“Then I won’t work with you.”



“You will.”



“Work unconditionally with a mudblood? Surely you jest.”



“Neither of us is safe.”



“I am well fed, I get a satisfactory amount of sun by day, my cell is kept clean, and in another two months, I will be able to reach the window.”



“Why, Mr. Malfoy, you have a goal.” She said sarcastically, “I, however, happen to know that you can’t get out of here without Severus releasing you. The master of the manor…” She stepped close to the bars and Lucius leaned his arms against two of the vertical supports in the door, effectively closing the distance between them to whispering distance. “I happen to be affiliated to the master of the manor and effectively keep you alive even now. If you give me information, I may be able to suggest a few things for you. I may even decide to set you free.”



They stared at each other for a moment before Lucius whispered, “I want you to make a wizard’s oath on the conditions of me revealing information about Severus.”



“Deal.”



“You will do what you can to set me free.”



“What I can accomplish, I will do.”



“You will aid my son, whatever the cost.”



Hermione hesitated, “I will aid your son… to the best of my ability… without risk to life, limb, or bond between my personal relations and myself, but at the risk of personal injury or death.”



“Feasible.” Lucius narrowed his eyes at her, “You will not breathe a word of this to Severus.”



Hermione hesitated. She didn’t believe that she knew nearly enough to be left without advice in this area, but soon found herself wondering how much she planned on telling Snape anyway. “Agreed.” She said.







Snape apparated into the doorway of the library and leaned against the frame with relief. He thought briefly about Hermione’s parent’s home, which was now crawling with Death Eaters, burning the body of some poor unlucky transient that Severus had planted and disguised as her father, going through her school trunk and her gifts, and looking for anything linked to the Order or Potter. He was sure that the house was littered with items that the Dark Lord would develop a plan for, and managed to grab his Christmas gift to her from under the tree before anyone noticed it was gone. When his thoughts turned to Hermione, he raised his wand and followed the pull from her spell.



He was surprised to find himself at the door of the dungeons and hesitated before turning the handle. Curiosity and his typical mistrust for everyone around him made him want to sneak in and hear what she was saying to Lucius, but something new cropped up in him that demanded that he trust her. He laid his hand on the door handle and slowly pushed it open. Hermione and Lucius’ whispered voices floated down the stone halls and he reminded himself to trust her, calling out, “Hermione.”



She whirled her head around and Lucius was tempted to take a hold of the riotous curls and pull until she bled afresh. “Yes, Seveus, I’m coming.” She turned back to Lucius who quickly wiped the mischievous look from his face and narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll be back and my mother will bind the oath.”



“A muggle!”



“Watch yourself, Lucius.” She warned, dropping her tone, “You tread on fine ground when you insult my parents.”



He wanted to say so many things to the young Gryffindor, but refrained from allowing any of those things to come to the surface. “I will be expecting you.”



Hermione turned away and ran down the hall to her husband, who stood on the stairs in his trademark black robes. Everything about him looked exhausted, from the sloppy way he tied his hair back to the leaning posture she had never witnessed on him. “Hello.” She was whispering again and she didn’t know why.



“Hello.”



She approached him with a cautious demeanour, stopped under his chin, and tilted her head up to kiss him. She didn’t lay a hand on him, and he followed her lead, letting only his lips touch hers. When she drew back, he pushed the door fully open for her and continued to trail her up the stairs. When they reached their room, Hermione hesitated at their door and turned before she opened the door to look up at him. “May I go say goodnight to my parents?”



He simply nodded and watched her enter the room next door before going into their room to wait.



Stepping in, there was no sign of either her mother or her father, so she called out, “Mum, dad…” There was no answer, so she stepped into the vast bedroom and sighed in thought. “Okay… uhm…” She tried to think of something that would help them know it was her. “Grandpa Gerald is buried in Scotland now, and he used to call me his twist and twirl little girl.”



Her mother stuck her head up from behind the bed and Hermione crawled across to clasp her mother close to her. Her mother’s thick curly hair tickled her nose and her father soon hugged them both from the side. It was an intense family moment that they had never shared before, and as odd as it seemed, she was thankful for the danger they had experienced. She had always been close to her parents, but had never felt so good to be in their arms. She was still their baby girl and they were still her heroes. Her father was a strong man to have withstood the Cruciatus Curse without knowing what was going on, and still trusting her. Her mother was a courageous woman who carried her husband away from danger. She was so proud of her parents and told them so.



“We’re proud of you too, Hermione.” Her mother said as she pulled away to smooth Hermione’s hair out of her face with a gentle caress.



“I have to admit, I am afraid for you.” Her father chipped in. “Have you come across Severus.”



“Yes, and I have to get back to him soon. I haven’t talked to him yet, so I’ll see you in the morning.”



“W-well you aren’t going to sleep with him again!” Her mother sputtered.



“I don’t know.” Hermione shrugged and blushed with embarrassment. “I have to figure out what was going on. Besides, I am married to him.”



“By accident!” Her mother countered.



“Look, I don’t know yet, I may just go talk to him and go to sleep, I don’t know.” She doubted it as she called goodbye and left the room before her parents had a chance to object. She walked down the hallway to the next door where she knew Severus was waiting for her and stood still in thought with her hand on the doorknob. She was very, very nervous about facing him. He had scared her and the overwhelming darkness that seemed to press in from the depths of the manor did nothing to relieve the ominous feeling of trepidation. She felt like she had only been standing out there for five minutes, but when he pulled open the door, she could tell that it must have been much longer by the concerned look on his face.



He didn’t speak and just stepped out of her way. He was wearing his dark blue night clothes again and smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon as she brushed by him. Closing the door and turning to her, he watched her unbutton her blue blouse and slide it from her shoulders. “Hermione—”



“I need a shower. Follow me to the bathroom.”



He complied and conjured a bench near the tub and sat down to watch her finish undressing and get in. She obviously did not realize how seductive her simple motions were and he recognized her grace with a steady gaze. “I—I wanted to apologize.” He managed after a few minutes of shared silence.



“You already did.” She responded softly. The hushed part of her tone seemed to echo around the room, and they quickly fell into another bout of silence interrupted only by the splashing of water as she bathed. Eventually, Hermione said, “You could always start with what happened when you were summoned by Voldemort.”



Severus grimaced at her use of the name. “The Dark Lord summoned me to talk to Bellatrix Lestrange who was informed that you were staying with your parents.”



“Informed? By whom?”



“She claims that it came straight out of the Order.”



“There’s a leak in the Order of the Phoenix?”



He could feel the stress of the day building into anger, and tried to control himself for her sake. He reminded himself that she too had been through a lot. “We don’t know who, but it was based on that information that the Dark Lord sent me with orders to kill your parents and leave you alive. Only if you attacked me was I to kill you, but he preferred that you witness the deaths.” Hermione’s heart began to race and she felt a bit dizzy though she ignored it. “And while we’re talking about it, you made a dismal job of hiding your emotions and fighting objectively tonight. You couldn’t have used any less of your brain if you were a blast-ended skrewt!” His own emotions made him snarl insensitively at her, though he explained his feelings away as exasperation from having to work around her inexperience.



When she looked up, Snape was glaring at her with a very familiar scowl. “Are you okay?”



“You acted like a thoughtless twit! What’s wrong with you?”



“Excuse me?” She was shocked. That was not what she had expected.



“You are nowhere near ready to face Voldemort with the lack of emotional control you have been showing lately!” She dropped her shoulders and finished washing herself as she eyed him warily, “I don’t know how you think that’s appropriate, but I most certainly did not train you that way!”



Rising out of the tub and grabbing her wand, she stood naked in front of him and squared her shoulders. “What is the real problem?” She didn’t know what was wrong with him, but the pathetic excuse he was giving her was not reason enough for his anger. Something else was pushing him to this.



Hermione was a smart girl, that was indisputable, but her perception into human behaviour was unmatched and less widely known. She watched Snape’s tight posture and the vehement anger in his eyes. She listened to the crisp, clipped short words as he ranted about her poor defensive skills. Something strange was bothering him and she couldn’t make it out. She was hardly listening to him anymore, and almost missed the sentence that put it all in perspective for her.



“I’m supposed to be confident when you leave my protection, but instead I’m going to be wondering how long it will take the Dark Lord to find you, rape you, and slit your throat!” He advanced on her and duly noted that she didn’t retreat from him in the slightest. Instead, she took the last step closer to him, so that they were nose to nose as he glowered down at her. He was close enough to embrace her, their bodies lined against each other, but neither had those intentions as he recommenced his tirade, “When you put yourself in danger, that puts me in danger, which, in turn, puts the rest of our world in danger of being conquered by Voldemort, all because you could not control your emotions!”



She wanted to call him a pompous ass, but refrained in favour of growling, “Like when!” She was losing control, and though she began to suspect that he was pushing her to it on purpose, she was in the mood to give in to the pressure. In fact, what she most desired was a good duel, and she had no clue that he wanted exactly the same thing.



“Like that atrocious excuse for defensive magic you displayed today! Longbottom can even manage to remember that his wand is too important to relinquish to the enemy, especially one that can use it as well as I can against you. What did you think you were doing tackling me?”



She had no response. She knew he was right, but that realization just made her more combative. “You tortured my father, AN INNOCENT MUGGLE!”



“I HAD TO! AND YOU ALMOST REVEALED ME, KNOWING THAT THERE WAS A DARK MARK OVER THE HOUSE!”



“I WASN’T SURE, SEVERUS!”



“YOU COULDN’T HAVE DEDUCED AS MUCH?” She honestly didn’t have an answer, but she was fuming. Her wand sparked, and Snape knew just what to say to get the reaction he wanted. “I should have known you couldn’t handle it. You’re just like your two idiot friends, and I should have known I couldn’t trust you to remain emotionally detached.”



“Or maybe,” she hissed, “I am not the one who needs the adjustment. Perhaps you just need to grow a heart.”



His tone dropped to match hers as he snipped, “Or maybe you need to grow up, because Mum and Dad won’t always be there for you. One day they will die, and then you’ll become exactly what the Dark Lord assumed. You will be nothing but a hollow shell of the Hermione that is now. All of your knowledge, all of your studies, all of your experiences and practices will be lost on you. So I may seem heartless, but it keeps me alive and I can fight better, whereas your emotions make you worthless!”



Hermione reacted without thinking, her hand came up to slap him and she met her mark with a loud pop. Snape hardly flinched. He backed up and threw a towel to her which she caught and used to dry her hair. She was drying gingerly at the wound, turning the towel red, and his entire demeanour changed. His shoulders dropped, his eyes softened, he approached her, and looked concerned. She knew better than to fight him when he wanted to tend to her and dropped her arms to her sides, looking at the bloody towel and suddenly feeling faint again. A simple spell made the patch of hair around the wound fall out, and she shrieked in anger and disgust and confusion and shame and fear and several other emotions that she allowed to show themselves at that moment. It was a stupid catalyst and she knew he would regrow it, but she had had enough and she whirled around on him. “WHAT—WHAT STOPPED YOU?”



He looked at her wound and began to bind it. “Stopped me from what?”



“Killing us all!”



Her words echoed around the marbled chamber and he fought the urge to step away from her. He didn’t answer at first. He was stunned silent, but when she shoved her fists into his chest and shrieked at him, he grabbed her wrists with brutal force and shook her. “How could you believe that, Hermione? You want to know what stopped me? You stopped me! I can’t hurt you and I can’t tell if that’s the bond talking or… but I can’t hurt you.” His voice broke and he finally did step away from her. “You seem to be fully capable of hurting me, and you do so without concern!”



She was shaken to silence and began to feel so dizzy that she started to fall, but he caught her with sure strong arms. She knew he was taking her to the bed and allowed him to place her on the soft mattress and roll her onto her stomach to finish tending to her wound. She flinched as he mended the skin and poured a tingling cold potion over her scalp. He murmured that her hair would be back and full by the morning, and brought her another potion. “What is it?” She asked weakly.



“Trust me, Hermione.”



“I—o-okay.” She said and felt the liquid move past her lips and down her throat.



“Trust me, Hermione, but never trust me enough to love me.” Snape whispered tightly. “Besides, I am no good for you.”



“I know.” She smiled at him reassuringly, “I promise I won’t. I won’t put you in that position.”



Her naivety was endearing, but he knew she was trying… harder than he was. He could feel the tug of emotion and tried to resist and pretend that he didn’t know what the feeling was. The last thing she remembered was Snape mumbling something beneath his breath and placing a soft kiss to her forehead.