Dark Days

AN – Slightly shorter than usual I think but I wanted to get it up as it’s been quite a break again. I have to apologise by saying that I’ve been away looking round Universities and doing coursework so please forgive me. Hope you enjoy it.

Dark Days Chapter Sixteen – Weary

In a small field about half a mile from Hogsmeade two people suddenly appeared in the air. It was just as well that it was a wizarding settlement as any muggles nearby would have been greatly disturbed by two people suddenly materialising out of thin air and plummeting to the ground. In Hogsmeade (particularly since the Weasley twins had set up a shop there) occurrences such as these, while not regular, were at least not completely unusual.

Hermione and Severus were still clinging together when they appeared mid air. They were about twelve feet up in the air and suddenly found themselves hurtling ground-wards. They rolled apart when they hit the floor and lay for long minutes gasping for breath. Slowly they sat up; Severus looked dazedly around him, not really taking in his surroundings.

“Not my best landing!” said Hermione apologetically.

“How did you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” she retorted, not meeting his eyes.

“Disapparate both of us! That’s not possible!”

“Well quilearlearly it is,” she responded avoiding the question. Wearily she got to her feet and began to walk slowly and rather unsteadily down towards the town.

Severus scrambled to his feet and caught her arm before she had gone far. “I want to know how you did it.”

She sighed, “I’m tired, just leave me be.”

“No, I want an answer.”

She ignored his plea and wrenched her arm from his grasp. “Are you coming, or would you prefer to wait here?” With that she turned and walked away.

Severus gazed after her in amazement, this girl, scarce half his age never ceased to amaze him. He began to stagger weakly forwards, grasping at a new pain in his side. A legacy of the fall to the hard earth he had just experienced. Noticing his sluggish gait she slowed and walked beside him to offer assistance should he need it, yet not so close that he could easily touch her.

Screwing his eyes up against the mounting pain in his legs Severus forced himself to continue. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye, unsure whether he would appreciate help, and whether she felt capable of offering it.

The ground sloped almost imperceptibly down, but it was rough and pitted and Severus stumbled several times, the pain in his legs growing to unbearable proportions. Then all at once they gave away beneath him and he fell to the floor. Hermione was immediately at his side. Determinedly she tried to lift him, but even starved and emaciated as he was her tiny frame could not lift him. Her heart quailed at the thought of doing more magic, she was so tired, but in the end she pulled out her wand and levitated him. So with Severus floating along listlessly and Hermione stumbling over the rough ground they made their way up through Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts.

Harry and Ron stood nervously outside Hogwarts, an agitated group around them. They had seen Hermione disappear as they were fighting to get towards her. Confused and scared they had left the battlefield and all returned to Hogsmeade before sprinting back to Hogwarts. They had arrived some time ago, but there was still no sign of Hermione or Severus and they were becoming concerned.

“Where are they?” asked Harry, a slight edge of fear in his voice.

“How did they get out that’s what I want to know!” cried Ron. “What she did…it’s just not possible.”

Harry looked at him, “Well she did something.”

Ron shook his head, “It’s just not possible.”

“Well they did something, maybe Severus wasn’t as bad as we first thought…” said Harry, a false hope forced into his voice.

“Oh come off it, you saw him.”

Harry nodded, “For something that was supposed to be so simple a hell of a lot of things went wrong.”

“Tell me about it, Hermione seems to be getting good at getting lat lately,” a wry humour was as forced in his voice as the hope in Harry’s.

A grey rain began to fall, chilling the air around them and the hearts of those that waited. Many gave up their vigil outside and retreated to the warmth of the castle until at last only Harry, Ron and Dumbledore remained, a quiet and worried little group. They spoke no words to each other, merely taking comfort in each others company, and trying to keep the fear that their two friends were dead out of their minds and hearts.

Wearily Harry slumped to the ground, crouching on the wet floor, his bedraggled hair in his eyes and his hands over his face. And so it was that he did not see the two figures approaching the castle from the lane. It was Ron who saw them first and with a loud whoop of exultation leap down the path towards them, Harry close on his heels once he realised what had happened. And as usual Dumbledore hardly seemed to be moving and yet got there quicker than either of the others.

Hermione saw them coming from afar and stopped in her tracks, her legs were reluctant to move on her command. Her clothes were ragged and soaked and her face streaked with mud and blood and tears. Around her the men were fussing and asking questions but their voices didn’t register. Dimly she shrugged off the fog that clouded her mind, she felt tiredness in a capacity she had never believed possible.

“What?” she stammered dazedly.

“Hermione let Severus down,” suggested Dumbledore gently, “We can take him into the castle from here.”

Unthinkingly she released the spell and Harry and Ron caught the semi-conscious man as he slumped to the floor. Then all at once the images around her swirled and she collapsed in a swoon. So together they were carried, battered and broken into the castle and laid side by side in the infirmary. The parallel with their own broken relationship was not missed by Dumbledore and he spent long hours watching over them as they slept in charmed sleeps praying that they would be mended as their bodies would.

* * * * * *

The dark army of Voldemort was growing restless. It was long since they had tasted the blood of the innocent, as ordinary soldiers were denied the pleasures of torture granted to the officers and elite among them. They burned for the taste of battle and Voldemort was all too happy to give it to them. To say that he was annoyed about the escape of Severus would be the biggest understatement ever made; in fact to say that he was in a towering rage did not even come close to the mark. Even those that knew him from long experience were amazed to see him like this. Lucius at one point had to risk his own neck, (a highly unusual situation) to placate him and prevent him from decimating half of his soldiers in a bid to relieve his anger. Jai’mea on the other hand had watched in callous amusement as her master had butchered his way through the ranks, yet wisely kept her distance until he was ready for more pleasurable entertainments once more. She knew her limits, and she was not stupid enough to put herself in the immediate firing line.

When eventually Voldemort did calm down and begin to think rationally again he began to plan. England would be his, and sooner than planned now as he had the dementors at his back and a whole long list of scores to settle. He gazed out of the window, still covered in the blood and entrails of a recently dead soldier, dreaming of the day when the world would be his. But he would be content for now with England and the removal of that idiot Albus Dumbledore.

Tiny hands snaked round his waist and he smiled grimly. He had wondered how long it would be before this enchantress wanted her fun again. He had dimly noticed her watching him petulantly from the sidelines during his rage, but she knew that now was the time, and he knew it too, welcoming her embrace. He felt teeth bite into his shoulder and the sharp rush as blood spurted from his veins and trickled down his back, then a soft, warm tongue lap gently at it. Grabbing her hands he spun her round and pushed her against the window, lowering his face to crush her lips in a violent kiss, his hands pulling at her clothing. Below in the courtyard the guards looked up, enjoying the show.

* * * * * *

Madame Pomfrey bustled around the infirmary in her usual confident manner, watching over those who lay there. It had been surprisingly, worryingly quiet recently, and aside from Severus and Hermione her only patients had been those with cuts and bruises. Nowadays this was always a bad sign, the quiet before the storm. Checking once more that her patients were sleeping, she slipped out briefly to collect more potions and medical equipment from her storeroom.

In the soft bed by the wall Hermione stirred and her eyes fluttered open. The high vaulted ceiling above her was strange yet familiar. Hardly a year had gone past while she was at school when she or once of her friends had been housed in that room. Her body ached and her eyes were stinging. She felt cold inside and every muscle in her body was sore. Her mind raced back over the events of the last few days. Finding out that Severus was a prisoner, the near disastrous rescue attempt, fighting Voldemort, the double disapparation. No wonder she felt so exhausted. And that was all before you even got to the tumultuous vortex that was her emotions. What was going on in there was anyone’s guess.

She tried to move and caught a glimpse of someone else in the bed beside hers. It was Severus. His black hair was fanned across his pillow with one stray strand across his face. His eyes were closed peacefully, but the cheeks were hollow and the body beneath the sheets was thinner than it had been. A long white scar now ran down his left arm that had not been there before and it almost shone as the light fell on it. Slowly she pushed back the covers on her bed and got shakily to her feet and crossed over to him. For long minutes she stood watching him trying to make some sense of the rage of emotions within her. Then she reached out and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He whimpered in his sleep and she snatched her hand back. Her knees gave way beneath her and trailing her hand along the wall for support she clambered back into bed and fell back asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Madam Pomfrey entered then, carrying boxes of herbs and potions and bandages. She looked over at her patients and smiled to see them both asleep so peacefully.

* * * * * *

It was three days before Hermione left her bed again. She slept sometime naturally and sometimes in a charmed sleep, and even when she did eventually rise she was weak and tired easily. Her incapacity confused her and her friends, but there was one person among them who did not seem surprised. Dumbledore watched her daily, waiting for the questions he knew would surely come.

Hermione sat beside the window in her room looking out across the grounds. She had finally been allowed to leave the infirmary and return to her own rooms on the condition that she rested and did not exert herself. So it was that she sat quietly by the window watching the world go by. It had started to snow and a thick white blankerpetrpeted the world and delicate white flakes drifted slowly past her window. She pulled her blanket more closely about her and shivered. The great weariness she had felt after her return to Hogwarts had not completely gone and she could not understand it. Eventually she summoned up her strength and left her room to find the answers that she sought.

Fawkes perched quietly on the back of a great oaken chair preening his feathers and watching Dumbledore from the corner of his wise golden eyes. His master was waiting patiently for Hermione’s arrival. Somehow he always seemed to know exactly what was going on and who he should expect to visit, it was uncanny.

Hermione reached the door of Dumbledore’s office even as Fawkes fluttered from the back of the chair to his usual perch by his master’s side. The door swung open before she could knock and Dumbledore called her inside. It was warm in his office and she welcomed the warmth gladly after the cold of the school corridors. He offered her a large comfortable armchair which she sank into gladly. Neither one spoke a word. The silence grew between them until it was almost palpable. Eventually Hermione broke the quiet between them;

“Why did you leave him there that long if you knew he was innocent?” She reverted back to referring to Severus without actually speaking his name.

Dumbledore gazed at her thoughtfully. “We did not have the strength or the opportunity to release him, and we needed you to be there.”

“No you didn’t, anyone could have gone. I didn’t need to be there at all but waited for me. Why?”

“You needed to see his condition for yourself. Also I had a feeling that only you could have got Severus out. Long sight is given to me Hermione. Often people doubt my convictions, but they come from a foresight which has never yet failed me. I do not know how I came by this foresight, but I knew that without you Severus and whoever had gone to rescue him would never have escaped.”

“I don’t understand, why me?”

Dumbledore laughed, “If I had a knut for every time someone had asked that question I should be a rich man.” He smiled at her, “I don’t know why you Hermione, but I do know that you are strong, that is why they picked you.”

“They? Who are they? Who’s picked me? Albus you aren’t making any sense.”

“The ancestors.”

“Albus don’t be ridiculous; the ancestors are the subject of legend.”

“I know. And maybe it is ridiculous of me to believe that it was they who interceded. It is entirely possible, even probable that your strength was borne out of desperation, that happens sometimes. So perhaps I am merely being an old fool to believe that people long dead can intercede on our behalf. But in any case, only you could have done what you did, of this I am certain.”

“But you think not? I mean, you think that they, that these ancestors, did get involved.”

“I do not know, but I would advise you not to try any more wandless magic for now, or any more double disapparations.”

“Why not? It could be helpful to us if I could learn, maybe others could too,” she asked hopefully.

“Maybe they could, but at what price? You did this for a matter of a few minutes and you were spent. Admittedly you were tired when you started, but no-one could go on for long at that pace. We may triumph for a while, but eventually our own strength would be our defeat.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Magic, itself in a pure form comes from within us. In its pure form it is very powerful, but normally we can only access a part of it which we must us a wand to channel. Without a wand few people can access this ‘store’ of power if you will. On the rare occasion that someone can access it, it will open doors that can often not be closed again. The person will keep drawing and drawing on this pure energy. A very powerful ally it seems, but the danger is that they will take too much and be left without enough to live on.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, “So if I…”

“If you had continued as you did you may have died, unless you could learn to gauge how much you were taking and stop in time.”

“And is that why I fainted, and why I’m so…” she trailed off, finding no words suitable for the exhaustion she felt.

“Yes, you drew on a lot of that pure energy leaving you with much less than usual.”

Hermione drew once more into silence, but already her mind was working, trying to find ways round these restrictions. There must be one. All rules could be broken, this she had learned through long years of friendship with Harry and Ron. Dumbledore watched her curiously but did not break her thoughts.

* * * * * *

Severus at last woke; he had been asleep now for days, kept in a charmed sleep by Madam Pomfey as he recovered some of his strength. For some time he lay still after he awoke, staring straight ahead at the ceiling. His mind raced with thoughts, confused and incoherent for the most part. Months or torture and pain reeled by in his inner vision, making him acutely aware of his comfort and sense of well being. Then pictures of Hermione and the almost foiled rescue came to him. It suddenly dawned on him that she had never explained how she had got them both out, and he resolved to ask her.

With some effort he sat up and examined his arms, slightly thinner than they had been, but it seemed that Poppy had been giving him restorative medications in his sleep, his bones were mended and most of the bruises were gone. The last testimony to his ordeal was the new white scar on his arm, some on his chest and the leanness from his long months of little sustenance.

He pushed back the bedcovers and stood up slowly and to his surprise he found that his legs could hold him and took a few tentative steps forwards. Poppy came bustling in then and ushered him immediately into a chair so that she could examine him.

“Poppy I’m fine really,” he stated feeling some of his old irritability returning.

Apparently it was evident in his voice as Poppy replied, “Feeling crabby? Good you must be feeling better, it’s of-putting when you’re nice we never know what to do with you. But if you’re getting grumpy you must be getting better.”

He scowled at her and she laughed inwardly, he might be a grumpy old bastard but they had become very close over the years. Long hours of patching him up after revels and visitations to Voldemort had brought them close together and given each a mutual respect for the other. A respect often displayed by harmless bickering, both knew that there was no malice in the insults cast in fact they enjoyed the banter. But Severus did not feel quite strong enough to fight back today, so let the comments about his personality slide. They were probably accurate anyway.

Poppy bustled about him for almost half an hour, tutting at one thing or another and complaining that he was too thin and needed to eat something. Severus let her fuss over him and once more his mind wandered. He thought once more of Hermione. She had been cold towards him, flinching at his touch and looking at him with emotionless eyes. This wasn’t the Hermione he remembered, not the way he had thought of her during his captivity. He did not know why she treated him like this and it pained him.

He fell asleep in his chair and Poppy left him there, covering him with a blanket and retiring to her office. It was only a few minutes later that Hermione came in, in search of Madam Pomfrey. She saw Severus asleep in his chair but did not approach him and turned instead to seek Poppy. But something alerted Severus to her presence and he woke up groggily.

“Hermione?” he asked.

She groaned and turned to look at him. “What?”

He flinched at the coldness of her voice but resolutely stood up and stepped towards her. She instinctively took a step back and he ceased his approach.

“What is it Hermione? What has happened to you to make you become so cold?”

“How dare YOU speak to me of cold? When did you ever know what true emotion was?”

He looked at her, puzzled and hurt, “I knew it when we were together.”

“Oh right, really. Why don’t I believe you? If you ever loved anything it was yourself.”

She turned to leave but he called her back, “Hermione please, just explain what’s wrong, let me help.”

She laughed, and it held no warmth. “You? You want to help me? I don’t even want to look at you.”

A myriad of emotions flashed across his face. “Fine, but if you would at least do me one thing before you go and tell me how you got me out of Voldemort’s clutches, you at least owe me that.”

She looked at him steadily. “It was a double disapparation, I bound you to myself and then got us both out. It usually isn’t attempted as the person ends up binding themselves to the place and then trying to leave, they incurably splinched.”

“You risked yourself for me then?” A small flicker of hope began to grow in his heart, maybe all was not as lost between them as it seemed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was under orders. If I had my way you’d still be there you bastard.” With that she turned and swept out of the room, cloak billowing behind her.

Her words cut Severus deeply, his legs gave way under him and he dragged himself to his bed. He knew love would be his downfall, hadn’t someone once told him “Beware of love, it will be your death”? He had laughed it off at the time, seers were never that believable in his opinion. But now he began to think that those words held some truth. While he had no emotion, nothing to lose he was safe. No matter what he saw or did he was safe. He did not die because he didn’t care about anything. And now he cared, and he cursed himself for the weakness. In his prison he had not wanted to die, he wanted to see her again, and it had nearly broken him. Would it have done before he wondered? Were emotions really going to be his downfall?

Hermione swept down the corridors in a boiling rage. Just the sight if him made her fume. Okay so Dumbledore thought he was innocent, but this was a man who thought woollen socks were the best invention in the world and who sealed his office with passwords of sweets. She was still fuming when she reached her room and cast herself down on the bed. And only then did she remember that she was supposed to have seen Poppy Pomfrey. But unable to face HIM again she stayed where she was, her only companion a bottle of firewhiskey.

“I should probably stop drinking this stuff,” she thoughrilyrily. But then her hedonistic side over threw her sensible side and she poured herself a large glass. It had been doing that a lot lately.