Evening Schnapps

J.K. Rowling is the owner of all except specific characters, situations, and plot bunnies that are unique to this story. I make no money, but lots of satisfaction from taking out her characters and playing with them for a while before putting them back.

Many thanks to my ubber-beta SignoraAligheri, and my sweetie Evan! They just prove that you really can’t do anything in this world without people looking out for you.


A/N: I feel the need to add an extra warning for this one chapter, even if my beta thinks I’d be ok without it. If you are a reader who does not like spoilers, no matter the subject, then please cease reading this note and go straight to the chapter now. *******
However, of you are particularly susceptible to upset by reading graphic descriptions, please skip to the bottom first, to read a more detailed warning before reading this chapter. Thank you.


Chapter 18- Fear

The sound of shattering glass roused Severus from his drunken stupor. As he opened his eyes, he saw the warm glow of the coals in his hearth glittering with a red light. Blinking, he looked away before the unnaturally harsh light hurt his eyes any worse. His gaze was drawn to another source of light near his feet. It took a few moments, but eventually, he realized that the glass he had been drinking from had slipped from his hand and fallen to the stone floor. The brilliant shards held his gaze in their sharp grasp, the new pain nothing compared to what he had already been enduring. The headache had returned the night before. He had almost made it to his rooms when Hermione had confronted him.

‘Granger,’ he thought, with a considerable amount of venom.

Severus looked over to the marked candle burning on the mantle. It was only 11 o’clock. He had been unable to consume enough Firewhiskey to ensure his slumber till morning. Enduring the worsening pain throughout the previous night and its increasing intensity during the course of the day, he had retreated to his rooms and had consumed the better part of a bottle before 7 o’clock that evening. The pain that was radiating in waves from deep within his eyes, moved in sickening pulses over the top of his head and down into the base of his neck. Not for the first time that night, he felt like he was going to retch. Swallowing thickly, he wished Hermione were there to work her excruciatingly effective solution.

“Hermione.”

The sound escaped his lips as a pained breath.

---------

The spider moved along with a single-minded tenacity, spinning its web in a delicate arc in the intersection of two barrel-vaults along her ceiling. Hermione lay on her back in bed, still clothed from the day, staring up at the tiny creature. One hand rested above her head, fingers tangled in her unbound hair, the other was experiencing a slow mutilation at her lips, the nails being worried down by her teeth.

After numbly drinking a basic healing potion to solve the throbbing, intense pain in her shoulder and head that the dark wizard had caused, she had gone to sleep the night before in tears. Severus’ words eating away at her, awakening feelings of inadequacy not felt as sharply since childhood. However, when she woke the next morning, the feelings of intense weakness were gone. Only, in their place was a nagging sense that something was wrong. During course of the day, the feeling had intensified. The solution was there; she knew she would find it. It was identifying the problem that was currently consuming her mind.

During her second period, while waiting for the young witches and wizards to complete an impromptu quiz designed to give her more time to think, she had run through a number of things bothering her about the current situation. She had dismissed the antics of Albus and Minerva from the previous night. She could only deal with one issue at a time, and frankly, she wanted to solve her personal life first, before dealing with two well meaning, but annoyingly meddlesome friends. The cause of Severus’ abrupt change towards her was going to take top priority, until it was solved.

During lunch, an owl had arrived with a small package. She had been waiting for it for over a week, and was greatly relieved to hear a soft rattle when she caught the tiny wrapped box. Some small part of her had hoped Severus would arrive for their regular Wednesday night schnapps, but she had been almost certain that would not be happening. It did not.

She had experienced enough short relationships in her adult life to accept that she and Severus failed before they even found a definition for what they shared, even if she wasn’t very happy about that failure. What she could not accept, what caused her to fuss and obsess all day, what caused her to throw herself on her bed after classes that afternoon to think, was not understanding why. Something wasn’t right, she was missing some critical bit of information. Not for the first time that night, Hermione ran through the events of the stormy Friday night, that lead to the moment when everything went wrong.

She had entered the dark room, she became aware of someone else, she drew her wand, the someone else cast Expelliarmus, she drew her second wand and cast Petrificus Totalus, when she realized her error, she released him, she backed away knowing that he would likely retaliate and bracing herself for it, he stood and faced her, even cracking a small joke as he stood, then he became furious and disappeared leaving nothing but his hatred lingering in the atmosphere.

‘Such hatred,’ she thought, ‘he’s never focused that rage on me before. Why now?’

As a child, contempt and impatience had been the dominant emotions she felt from him. She certainly didn’t buy into psychic mumbo-jumbo, but basic human empathy was something she had paid attention to. Her mother called it a woman’s sixth sense, she just thought of it as paying attention. Up at the yurt, even when he was at his most nasty to her, there was never hatred. It was a source of amazement to her that, even when she had put him in his place in that dangerous foreign environment, he never reacted with hatred. Anger and frustration, yes, but never the kind of hatred she had always assumed he was capable of. She believed that he would have had to be filled with such an intense fury and anger to have been drawn to Voldemort when he was younger. Once in his psyche, even if the cause were removed, the capacity would remain, waiting only for something to trigger it.

‘The question is, what triggered it?’ Hermione sighed, as she absently switched fingers, to nibble at another short nail. ‘Why, during our arguments and endless debates, has he never become that upset before? What was different? Think, Hermione, think!’

As she stared at the spider, she spotted a second, much smaller spider approaching the first. The smaller spider cautiously approached the first, tentatively testing the safety of its attraction. The larger spider froze in its web, allowing the other to approach. When it arrived, the smaller spider cautiously raised its palps and reached out to caress the larger one. Suddenly, the larger spider gave a twitch, startling the tiny one. The smaller jumped back and froze, fear plainly evident. Only a fraction of a second passed, as Hermione looked on, before the larger spider attacked. Retribution was swift, and fatal.

Hermione sat straight up in her bed.

“Fear!” she barked. “Of course, I have never once showed fear of Severus. Not once in all these months! Not until I expected him to retaliate for petrifying him.”

She jumped out of bed, reaching back and twisting her hair into a bun. On the way out of her rooms, she stuck a wand in her bun and grabbed the little wrapped package off of her desk.

--------


Severus slumped in his chair, eyes closed. Seemingly oblivious, his mind reeled as he replayed the morning he spent with Hermione over in his mind. Her soft hands caressing his chest, the backs of her fingernails dragging up his stomach and over his ribs, even the brush of her curly tresses drifting over his face came back to him in vivid reality. He took a deep breath as the memories washed over him, distracting him from the intense pain and nausea he was cursed with. In his mind he reached up and smoothed his palm over her neck and throat, dragging his fingers down her sternum and over to cover one breast and the thin ribcage beneath it, the one that had seen so much damage after the avalanche. Every day, it seemed he marveled at the strength of the young witch. She faced such danger without any sign of fear. He allowed his hand to run further down, gripping her hips as, in his mind, he thrust up into her again, reveling in her soft gasp. Allowing his eyes to drift up and gaze into her intense copper eyes, he stopped. Horrified at the fear he saw in them. His daydream morphed and he was once again in the dark room, off the third floor corridor, facing Hermione. She was standing away from him, guarded and the look of fear in her eyes broke his heart, again.

“No!” Severus woke with a start, yelling out and flinching simultaneously as the sudden movement twisted the pain in his head to higher levels. It felt as if something was hammering against his eardrums. He could feel them vibrating in a sickening, thumping rhythm. Desperate to ease the pain, he lifted his hands to his face and tried to press his thumbs in the same place above his eyes that she had, the night she helped him. The pain was unbearable, knife sharp and combined with the thumping in his eardrums, he was overwhelmed. He let go, releasing the pressure all at once. The reaction should have been predictable, given the warnings he had been given that night. He fell forward and retched violently.

It was a few minutes before he felt he could sit up again. As he pushed back and partially cleared the puddle in front of him with a half-hearted spell, he finally became aware that the pounding in his eardrums wasn’t just a symptom of the worsening headache, but was someone pounding on his chamber door.

--------

Hermione continued pounding on the hidden door. She knew that she couldn’t simply open it; the particularly nasty wards the wizard had set would damage her as readily as any other intruder. She heard a shout from inside.

‘Good,’ she thought, ‘at least I know he’s in there.’ She kept up her pounding. Eventually, he would have to answer the door, and when he did she, well frankly, she wasn’t sure exactly what she would do. However, she was certain that she would have to be prepared for a nasty reception, and given their last parting, be prepared for the possibility of him physically lashing out at her. At that thought, she set her jaw in grim determination and kept pounding on the door.

After a few more moments of pounding, she heard the latch within begin to turn. Stepping back, she steeled herself.

‘Just remember, Hermione,’ she thought, as she took a deep breath, ‘don’t back down, don’t show fear, no matter what.’ The face that confronted her, as the door was nearly ripped off its hinges, took her steadying breath from her lungs and she suddenly felt that there was no air in the room.

Severus glared down at her, his skin was sallow with a sickly sheen, his hair had returned to lanky, greasy clumps, he had dark circles under his dead black eyes, and his thin lips were cracked and had a gray cast to them. She could feel the pain he was feeling buffeting her in waves. The normally closed, private man was so far gone to the pain that he was likely unaware that he was broadcasting it like a silent scream.

She stepped forward into his room, noting the look of surprise that crossed his face. As she moved past him, she felt his hand come up to try to grip her arm, but prepared for it, she was able to dance subtly out of the way and turned to face him.

“You may as well shut the door, Severus,” she said evenly. “I’m not leaving until I’m damn well ready.”

-------

Severus stared down at the witch standing confidently in his sitting room. She was at once, the last person he wanted to see, and the only person he wanted to see. He knew that after all the pain and misery in his life, the woman standing opposite him was the one to bring him a measure of happiness. But, he remembered the look of fear in her eyes, fear of him. At that moment, he had known. He would never find a normal life, a happy life. He was doomed to teaching unappreciative students by day, and spending lonely, bitter nights in his rooms. He would never find someone who wasn’t afraid of him. He would always be the feared Death Eater, the Murderer of Albus Dumbledore, the one no one could trust, or love.

“Granger,” he snarled, “if you won’t leave until you are damn well ready, then I’ll make you damn well ready.”

“Relashio!” Severus shouted, as his pulled his wand. He watched with satisfaction as the witch was thrown backwards and knocked down by the burst of light from his wand. He watched as she slowly pulled herself back up, holding onto the stove hearth as she rose.

“I’m not leaving, Severus.” He could hear the determination in her voice. “Not until I’ve had my say.”

He watched incredulously as she slowly pulled her wand from her bun and took up a defensive dueling stance.

“Well,” she said grimly, “come on then.”

Once again, all the pain he felt in his heart welled up, combining with the unrelenting pain in his head.

“Expelliarmus!” he cried, and was shocked to see her easily block the spell.

“Stupefy!” Once again, the witch easily deflected the spell. Severus began casting in earnest, anger and pain growing. They circled around the room, keeping a respectful distance from each other, but dueling to the best of their ability. Severus’ anger grew as with each spell, it became apparent that she had no intention of casting offensive spells. She was simply blocking every spell he threw at her.

Finally, his rage took hold of him and before he could stop himself, he ducked to the side and surprised the witch with his quick movement and quicker spell.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!”

He watched with satisfaction as a spell finally hit home. The witch was thrown back against the wall and looked down in shock as her robes fell partially open. A large gash opened from her left collarbone down across her torso and belly, ending at her right hip. She looked up at him with wide eyes as she sank to the floor. Severus stood rigidly, watching impassively as his dueling opponent fell before him, like so many others. He moved across the room, to stand over her. The pain was still there, but the adrenaline from the duel helped him push the pain into the back of his mind. As he looked down, he examined the wound with pleasure. He had always been proud of that particular spell. He had invented it at an age when most wizards were not yet even thinking about such things.

He gazed at the end of the cut, it was deep enough that the witches hip bone was exposed, the bleeding was becoming more profuse as his eyes followed the cut up across her belly and across her breast, to her collarbone. This too was exposed, a glint of white under the red. He heard a moan and looked up at the face of his adversary, and dropped his wand.

‘Hermione!’ he screamed silently in his mind. Her eyes were fluttering as she faded in and out of consciousness. He dropped to his knees beside her and reached over to grab his wand off the floor.

“Tergeo,” he whispered, as he tore her robes away to fully expose the gash. He watched as the blood began to clear, exposing the full extent of his hex. He silently cursed himself as he began casting a wound-healing spell. The pain in his head came rushing back as he tried to concentrate on knitting the deeply slashed flesh. He had been in so much pain, and had been so angry, that he had slipped back into survival mode and had stopped thinking of the beautiful, stubborn woman in front of him as anything more than a target.

As the extensive wound healed under his ministrations, he felt his strength failing. However, he kept the spell up, fighting the pain and increasing his focus, until finally even the scar began to fade. In all of his experience, he had never heard of such an extensive injury being healed without a scar, but he couldn’t bear the thought of such an ugly scar on such a witch as this, and placed there by his hand. He kept up the spell until the last of the silvery scar tissue was gone. There was only a silver mark on her collarbone and her hipbone left when his strength failed all together, and he collapsed on his side next to her. The pain in his head was stronger than any he had felt before. He was aware of a ringing in his ears and his eyesight became clouded with red, tunneling in until he was only dimly aware of his surroundings. He reached out and tried to pull Hermione to his chest, throwing his arm around her as he finally succumbed, losing consciousness.

---------

Hermione woke aware of a deep ache in her chest. She looked down, expecting to be in Poppy’s domain and was surprised to find that the ache was caused by Severus’ arm wrapped over her in an iron grip. He was sleeping, or unconscious, lying on his side, curled up protectively around her. She reached up and gingerly brushed her fingertips over her exposed skin, remembering the deep gash that had been there as she had passed out. It was healed. Severus had healed it. As her fingers continued along the site of the wound, she tensed.

‘There is no scar! That’s impossible!’ she thought, startled. Somehow, Severus had healed the wound so thoroughly that there was no scar running across her belly. She wondered about the implications of that. ‘He must feel something other than hatred. He would have had to, in order to accomplish such a feat.’

Hermione had known, as she had fallen, that she had miscalculated. By showing no fear, and continually deflecting hex after hex, she had brought him to a maddened state. She hadn’t actually intended to deflect so many spells, but in his weakened state she had been worried about hurting him, so simple deflecting seemed the wisest course. When the powerful cutting curse had struck her, she felt sure he was so far gone to anger that he might just let her die, or just patch her enough to ship her off to Poppy.

Waking up healed and in his tight embrace wasn’t in her plan, either. However, now she thought it might be to her advantage. Slowly reaching over, she silently summoned her wand. She watched with satisfaction as the fallen instrument quivered a moment and then leapt into her awaiting hand. Wandless magic was a new addition to her skills, a recent appearance since the acquisition of the twin dark wands months earlier. She still wasn’t ready for anyone else to know about it, but as Severus was still unconscious, she had no qualms about the display.

She reached down with her wand and whispered, “Induviae Reparo.”

Hermione watched as her robes shifted, the sliced ends meeting and mending. Looking down as Severus, she could see that the dangerous wizard was even paler than before. His skin had taken a gray cast, and his previously gray lips were now tinged with blue. Now was the time. If she was ever going to be able to override his mistaken belief that she was afraid of him, it was now or never. She took a deep breath and placed her hands on the wizard’s shoulders. She shoved violently, wrenching herself out from under his arm. Swiftly she rolled over and gained her footing, before Severus could fully gain his bearings. Inside, her heart ached at the look of pain and confusion on his face.

“How dare you?” she began, gathering her strength around her. “How dare you attack me? You could have killed me! And for what? For your pride? Because you thought I would back down and be afraid of you? Or, because you are too damn stubborn to ask for help when you need it?”

She watched as the tall man painfully pulled himself up to his feet. For a moment, she thought he was going to fall, but stopped herself from running to catch him. She watched coldly as he fought to stay upright. Finally, he seemed to gain a bit of strength and walked towards her, anger once again filling his eyes. But, she saw something else there, relief. He was truly glad to see her healed. She felt her heart soar as she saw it. Carefully keeping her features closed, she walked up to him, stopping inches from his face.

“You threw away a perfectly good thing, because you are a coward!” Hermione let the final word fall off her lips with all the bitterness she could muster, and was rewarded as she watched he deathly pale face flush red. He lunged for her, and she danced back out of his reach. Finally, the moment she had been waiting for arrived. The pain and the stress and the anger was finally too much for the strong wizard and he dropped to his knees, grasping his head in his hands and moaning from the pain.

Hermione smiled tightly for a moment, before reaching into her robes and pulling out the small package.

“Severus,” she said quietly. “I’m only going to tell you this once. You are the worst kind of coward. You are not afraid of pain, of danger, or of failure. But you are afraid of the simplest little thing. You are a coward, because you fear needing help. Today, however, you will get the help you so desperately need, if you have the courage. Take one of these, just one, if you dare.”

She threw the tiny package down on the floor in front of him and whirled around, allowing her robes to billow out behind her. She caught sight of Severus, out of the corner of her eye, as the door shut. He was still hunched over on his knees, holding his head, but one hand was reaching towards the package.

‘Good,’ she thought, allowing herself to fall back against the stone corridor wall. ‘Let’s see if that gets through to him.’ She felt her legs give out, and she sunk down to the floor, exhausted.

---------

A/N: This is a more detailed warning regarding the nature of this chapter. I feel the need to address this, because I am certainly aware that there are readers who, for whatever personal reason, can become truly upset at violent conflicts between men and women. Specifically, anything that could be construed as domestic violence. Given the contents of this chapter, I can anticipate some readers who are enjoying this story, who might not be able to handle this particular chapter. For those who are sure that they want no part of it, please read the chapter through until Hermione is at Severus’ door, and the door opens. From this point, you should consider this chapter finished, knowing that there was a conflict within. Rest assured that I will insert enough information into chapter 19, that you will not miss any ‘greater plot’ bits of information. In fact, this was once a very long chapter, but I have split it, specifically to allow individuals to avoid this confrontation. For those who choose to read, but might still be sensitive to the subject matter, please understand that the confrontation is not domestic violence in the mind of the author, ‘as written’. Bear in mind that Severus is beyond rational thought, Hermione is aware of it, and is treating the situation much the way psychologists deal with violent, and irrational children. In this case, they are both powerful and intelligent witch/wizards, and danger is inherent in their lives. This story line bears little resemblance to domestic violence as we know it, and is to be treated only like what it is; fantasy writing.

A/N: Yeah, I fully expect some of you to be hunting me down right about now. Rest easy, because my beta issued a challenge to me. Essentially, post this now, with chapter 19 not yet written, and then do a speed run. Writing chapter 19, getting it to her to be beta’d, and posted by Sunday night. So, I, being the fool I am, accepted. Hey, look at it this way, I refrained from leaving you with the cliffhanger of Hermione falling. :D

On to feeding the muses…

Juls- So, think he’s got some sense knocked into him yet? You know, I still need to read your stuff. *slinks off feeling guilty*

Heksy- Hi! Welcome to the cocktail hour. Yes, you are correct, in that Hermione’s reaction has been a bit OOC. However, I wrote it this way intentionally, as she is no longer 16, the last reference we have from canon. As I am sure you have figured out by now, her defensive and non-inquisitive reaction was both rooted in lingering childhood self-doubt, and was temporary. As an aside, Harry always struck me as the one to demand an explanation, Hermione was the one to figure it out on her own. Anyhow, welcome and I hope you enjoy!

Sheedy- Thanks! Can’t wait till your next bit. ;)

Melusinesara- Don’t break your computer! You won’t be able to find out what happens next! Tee hee. So, you’ll learn that I really love the cliffies. Do be warned that there is one coming that is classed as ‘the cliffie to end all cliffies’, and that this was not it. Glad you like the story.

Pickles- I have to say I prefer Breyers Natural Vanilla with Cloudberry preserves as a topping, over cookie dough ice cream. But, that’s because I have this Dutch beau, and he turns me on to all these very cool things that you can only get at import stores. Yay snow! We finally got some and we’ve now had bright, blessed sunlight for the past two days! I can breathe! Wow, if you thought he was Super Jerk in 17, I am kind of afraid about what you think now. Poor Bill, he’s going to have an aneurism when you tell him. Better not, and just let him read it for himself when he gets back from the station. It’ll be kinder, kind of like ripping off a band-aid. Oliver Wood, oh my. I do so drool over him. But, I think that’s because of the yummy young fella they got to play him, more so than Rowlings writings. But, that being said, I just don’t think he’d be enough of a threat to our Severus. Anyhow, I think I’ll avoid the typical bodice-ripper out on this fight. He’ll have to learn the hard way. ;) Now, no more hints! I’ve said enough already. However, I’m open to posting to other sites, and am open to suggestions. Ashwinder being the current exception. British English and American English are different animals and the British moderator over there refused this story based on the grammar differences. I have tried to get a British grammar beta there, but I can’t post to their forums. It’s a computer glitch marking me as ‘inactive’, but help tickets aren’t helping. So, until I get that sorted out, I’ll take other suggestions for sites.

Amsev- Well, this update came early because of the challenge by my beta. So… hope it was quick enough for you! ;) Well, he didn’t get a swift kick in the ass, but he was driven to his knees! Thanks for you compliments, they really mean so much to me! As for your ‘ditto’, ditto to what I wrote to Pickles.

ShilohDark- Hiya! Welcome to the cocktail hour! I’m so glad you are loving the story, there is so much more coming!