Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul

A/N: My apologies for the delay in the update, but now I’m finished uni. Yay! So this update is especially long, 7300 words and 28 pages long. I could have easily broken it into three chapters, but I figured you’ve all been so patient. (And that’s not including the little thank you reviews to you guys, so *phllbb!* to anyone who says otherwise) But please enjoy. Thank you all for your continued interest in this story. Sorry guys, still no Draco, Ginny, and Lucius.


Neelix— *cues music* And so are the days of our— Hermione & Severus’s (and everyone else in this story’s) lives… onward ho!

NarcissasKitty— Your poor kitty! At least it’s getting a break, unlike my poor fingers, which have been kinking til they can’t move anymore between uni stuff, stuff for this new show, and getting this next chapter together. Didn’t want to disappoint you guys, since such much is happening and there are frayed ends hanging around like loose electrical wires. Hope you enjoy the new update!

ElectricalStorm— Key to the Godiva factory, eh? *mulls this over* Hrm…*takes the key* I’ll hold onto it for safe keeping, just until you can get me the key to Willy Wonka’s factory. ;-)

Sljh— Well, Hermione is alone. In the snow. And everyone else is having their soapy lives. Out of the snow. :-p And stop quoting my own works to me, darn it! :-p Do not remind me that I made her human. It’s just an illusion!! Hang in there, the ship is sailing…And you have got way too many theories!!

LyraAphroditeMoon— Yes, I know my Severus is making you mad. But he’s not meant to make you feel all warm and gooey. :-p He is Severus Snape, after all. And had it been Hermione he’d been gushing over, instead of Nalina, you would have loved him instantly, I reckon. Either way, enjoy the soap, it’ll get you squeaky clean!

crankymondayreviewer— ahem. *clears throat* I happen to like Hermionesicles. :-p *laughs at your pouting*

sevsgirl— You win. I have to post another chapter to you for writing a Cinderelly song just about me! *does lil curtsy* That was awesome, now if you can just train a few mice to sing it to me and make them dance while wearing funny little hats and shirts…

snapesaddiction— Yes, I am fine thank you for asking, just had last minute end of uni stuff to deal with, but it’s all over now! Big update for you guys! Whee!

The icy wind was cold as it blew harsh against his face. It was absurd, him out trekking through the snow, nearly two feet deep in places, trying to find Hermione Granger, who on a whim had up and run away. Thick furry flaps covered his ears, and he didn’t care how ridiculous he looked, at least they were keeping his extremities warm, which was more than he could say for the long johns he was wearing. Crunch, crunch, crunch, his feet sank into the snow as he trudged forward. Was it even worth chasing her down? Yes, he quickly reminded himself, the alternative proving to be him stuck with the boy he did not wish to raise.

Dark shadows loomed onto the sparkling white snow as he entered the woods, scanning carefully for any sign of footprints. It did not take him long before he came to a more densely packed area of the forest and spied tiny little human boot prints heading for a clearing. He hoped they belonged to the girl he was pursuing lest he waste time chasing down some mountain hermit. Severus followed the prints as the wind picked up, and he ducked his head low, bending over to keep from being blown away.

The trail of footprints led him into a clearing and it only took him a moment to see her there, just a few meters ahead, resting in the snow. Only she did not appear to be resting so much as frozen solid. It wasn’t his compassion for the girl that drove him forward, or his caring for human life in general, but the thought that he would be forced to raise a child that he had no desire to have, it was that thought that compelled him to dash toward her.

Her lips were blue, her face pale, nearly as white as the snow. Hermione had slipped into darkness, no longer seeing the bright white of the snow that surrounded her. As Severus rushed to her side, he too sank into the deep snow drift, though only up to just above his knee, as he was a few heads taller than Hermione. Grumbling, he pulled his wand from his pocket and blasted the snow away, the radiating heat of his spell melting the snow down completely. It was as if he’d blasted a tiny cave-like hole into the snow bank, walls of the white frozen crystals all around him. He stood on the ground, which was frozen solid, as the girl collapsed forward against him, unconscious.

Severus rolled his eyes and held her up. She did not respond. Pressing his ear close against her lips, he shifted the furry flap away to feel for breath. He waited. Nothing. Biting his glove, he pulled it off with his teeth, letting the warm cotton lined garment fall to the ground. He pressed two fingers against her neck, just beneath where her collar began, feeling for a pulse. Her skin was frozen solid, like touching a piece of meat that had been in the freezer far too long.

The wind picked up, snow and ice crystals rushing all around them. Pulling the girl into his arms, he did the best he could to wrap his own coat around her, protecting her face from the wind. Squeezing her close to his chest, he apparated them both to the cabin, just as a wall of snow caved onto the spot where they had been standing.

~*~

Silvery eyes stood gazing at the heavy oak door of the house before her. She had gone to the ministry officials in charge of government wards only to find that the baby had been temporarily relocated, but as it belonged to no one at the moment, and she claimed to have verbal permission of the biological father, she was sent along her way to sort the child out. Drawing a heavy breath, she raised her fist and knocked on the door.

It took a moment before the door swung open and a rather handsome man came to the door. She couldn’t help but blush as the man before her wore no shirt, and his dark hair was a rough mess piled atop his head. “Can I help you?” Harry asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. He tried not to smile too much. The woman before him was simply stunning in appearance, though it didn’t occur to him that it must have been awkward for her standing there, him wearing no shirt, as was his practice in the hot month of July.

“Er— yes,” she nodded. “My name is Lenore, I’m here about the baby.” She said.

Harry Potter, green eyes sparkling, stood straight up and stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter his house. “The ministry found someone that quickly,” he muttered, and then closed the door behind her. The girl was thin, almost of wiry build, but she appeared to float when she moved, rather than walk and her eyes gleamed with hints of gunmetal.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid that’s not the case at all.” She blushed again, finding herself lost for words. She hadn’t expected them to have placed the boy with the wizarding world’s local war hero, though it did occur to her that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter had been quite close in times of war. “You see— oh goodness, where do I start?”

“How about over a cup of tea?” he offered and led her up the stairs of his split level and into the kitchen.

“That would be lovely,” she smiled, and followed him.

His muscles were toned, his skin nearly tanned and she couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over his pecs and stomach as he moved about the kitchen, putting the kettle on, and gathering the sugar and teacups. She looked away, blushing furiously when he’d turned to her and caught her looking, but then he blushed too, realizing that he was indeed topless. “Er— sorry, was doing some work in the yard, let me just go put a shirt on.”

A moment later Harry returned, still sans shirt; with a bit of a lopsided smile on his face. She was quite beautiful. “Er— did you want to see the baby?” he asked. Lenore nodded, and stood from the kitchen table, following him down the hall to a door opposite what she believed to be the bathroom. “He’s asleep,” he whispered and gently pushed the door open.

Lenore stepped over to where the baby boy rested in the tiny blue bassinette, and she couldn’t help but smile, her eyes welling up. “He is beautiful,” she said. Harry nodded in agreement. They stood there for several movements, just watching the boy’s tiny chest rise up and down as he slept. Finally, it was Harry who nudged her gently on the shoulder and moved them back to the kitchen.

“So.”

“Right.” Lenore drew a deep breath, taking a sip from her tea. “So, I’m Severus’ wife— well, would have been wife’s sister.”

“I’ll have to admit, you did look very much like the girl in the papers…” he then quickly added. “And I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “And it does seem that your friend…and well, Severus, that neither of them are quite keen to raise the child, and I would hate to see him be raised without a mother…”

“My thoughts exactly.” He said, and then spluttered into his tea as she giggled ever so slightly. “I mean— well— the same, only, you know, but without a father. I just didn’t want the baby becoming some lost child in the system, that’s all. Children need to grow up in a family.” His eyes fell for a moment. The concept of family was something that should have been lost on Harry Potter as he’d never truly had one. Petunia Dursley may have been his biological aunt, but she was no more kin to him than the rubbish in the bin beneath the sink. “Children shouldn’t grow up without parents,” he added, images of Lily and James flashing behind his eyes for the briefest of moments.

“My thoughts exactly, I grew up with two loving parents in France,” she smiled, but quickly doused her smile, recalling that Harry Potter was The-Boy-Who-Lived the night his parents had been killed. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to not have parents…” she tried not to look at Harry as she spoke. “I just think he should— well…”

Harry nodded. “So what do we do?”

Lenore shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean— you’re married, so perhaps it would be best if you and your wife raised the child, though I’d very much like to be a part of his life.” It seemed a strange request, to become a part of the boy’s life, having no biological relation to him, knowing only that he was the illegitimate child of the man who had almost married her twin.

“Actually,” Harry interrupted. It still hadn’t quite sunk in. How simple it had all been, when he’d pulled those papers from the drawer where Ginny had left them. It was as if she’d been planning it for months, everything had been filled out, and all he had to do was sign. One signature and it tossed nearly six years of marriage down the drain. It was almost laughable at how simple it had been. “I’m recently divorced,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright, I’m still not used to it…it was very, very recent,” he added.

“I see.”

“So then maybe it’s best if you take the baby, I mean, I’m certainly not going to be providing him anything another single parent couldn’t…and I don’t know how happy Hermione would be with me raising the boy she didn’t want in the first place, her and I, after all, are still friends, and I imagine she won’t want any reminders…”

Lenore bowed her head for a moment. “You know, he really needs a name.”

“I’ve been thinking that as well, but I wouldn’t have the slightest idea as to what to call him.” Harry finished his tea. “Would you like some more tea?” Lenore shook her head, having not quite finished her own cup. “I feel awful that I keep referring to him as ‘him’ or ‘the baby’ but I just don’t know what sort of name would be appropriate, and as I wasn’t sure I was going to keep him, not because I didn’t want to,” he added in a hurry, “But with all the legal technical stuff, I didn’t want to name him only to have him be taken away and all…”

“I can understand that…” she said, and then took another swallow of her tea. “But what you were saying about raising him…I’m not sure that me as a single parent would be any better of an idea…and not that Severus and I are close, I’ve only just met him—” she paused for a moment. “I mean, well I always knew about him, but anyhow…I just didn’t want the boy to be all alone, I know it’s not what Nalina would want if it were her son…”

They sat in silence, contemplating the words they had spoken, sipping more tea until the sun had nearly set. The cry from the baby’s room interrupted the peacefulness in the kitchen. “I think he’s hungry,” Harry said, rising from his chair and going to the fridge. He pulled a bottle from door shelf and zapped it with his wand.

“Bottle feeding? He’s only a week or two old…” Lenore frowned.

“I know, but I’m not exactly equipped to…” his voice trailed off and his cheeks flushed red. “And with Hermione not here…well…you know…” and he tried to chuckle, though he failed to hide his blush.

Lenore stood up. “I could do it, you know…” She covered her mouth, also blushing furiously, not having meant to jump up and offer, the idea had only ran through her head. “I mean I’m not pregnant, or lactating, but there’s a spell, I read about it when one of my mother’s friends was having a baby and having trouble producing milk to feed the baby with…I could— I mean— if you thought that might be…oh dear,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, forgot I said anything.”

Harry stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually,” he took a step toward her. “I think it’s a really noble and sweet thought, if you’re comfortable, of course. He hasn’t been taking very well to the bottles anyhow.” Another squeal rose up from the baby’s room, and they both laughed, a quiet, nervous laugh. “I could give you a hand with the spell, I’m fairly proficient in charms.”

“Alright, I’ll give it a go,” she said, and then frowned. “You don’t have a copy of Maternal Witch, do you? That’s the book I found the spell in.”

Harry closed his eyes. “Yes, actually, I think we do, Ginny would have had it when we were trying to get pregnant a few years ago…though nothing in that book ever seemed to work…” he shrugged his shoulders. “As far as trying to conceive anyhow,” he took off down the stairs to the lower level of his split level house and returned a moment later with the book. “Here it is, spell’s in here?”

Lenore nodded. “I think I could perform it myself, though it might be easier if you did,” she suggested. Awkward silence had turned into extreme awkward silence as they stood in-between the entryway to the kitchen and the makeshift living room. She had only meant to suggest that it seemed unfortunate that the child was forced to the bottle so soon, not that she was suddenly going to become the infant’s wet nurse, but somehow her mouth had managed to once again get ahead of her mind.

“Alright,” he said, and they both moved down the hall toward the screaming baby’s room. “Shh,” Harry soothed, coming to the bassinette and picking the boy up. “I’ve been sitting in that rocking chair, just there,” he pointed to the rocker by the window, “when I feed him. It belonged to my wife’s grandmother, go have a sit while I try to calm him down a bit.”

Lenore took slow, small steps across the room to the chair. She had never breastfed a baby before and was a bit nervous, but she knew that especially with wizarding children, breast milk was the best for them, where formula often upset their stomachs and in some rare cases stunted their magical growth. Harry was bouncing the baby up and down in his arms, managing to skillfully hold the boy in one arm while flipping through the book in the other. “Here we are, Lactation for Non-Lactating Witches…” he said, and then quietly read over the page, studying the motions described in the illustrations. “Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Alright,” she tried not to blush as he stepped forward and placed the boy in her arms. Carefully cradling the baby, and being sure to support his head, Lenore undid the top three buttons of her blouse, and then frowned. “Could you—” again her face turned scarlet, and she was certain there wouldn’t be any blood left in her body if she kept blushing. “I don’t think I can undo my bra strap and hold him at the same time.”

“Of course,” Harry leaned over and Lenore’s bluish gray eyes went wide as he reached around behind her, and slid his hand up the back of her shirt. His hand was warm, and very large, but felt smooth on her skin as he fumbled for a moment with her strap. It popped open and the garment around her breasts fell loose and sagged in front of her skin. She hadn’t expected him to undo her bra, only for him to hold the boy while she did it herself.

“Thank you,” she said, trying to fight back another blush.

Grabbing his wand, and reading from the book, he pointed to her left breast and muttered the three words of the spell, while flicking his wrists in a circular motion. “There, that should do it.”

“I don’t feel any— oh!” she cried suddenly, feeling the strangest sensation. It was as if someone had plugged a hose into her chest and her breast began to swell like a water balloon. Her nipple swelled and she could feel the lopsided weight of her boob that was now filled with milk. “Alright,” she said, and gently brought the crying baby forward, “Easy, baby, there you go…” she said, pressing his mouth against her nipple. Without hesitation the boy latched on and began to suck at her teat. “I think you did it.” She smiled at Harry.

“Great,” he said, and then looked away. “I’ll um, I’ll just go wait in the kitchen until you’re—”

“It’s alright, you should um— really, it’s fine, you can—”

“Well, I’ll just— in case— yeah…” he trailed off and leaned against the back of the door. “Right then.”

After almost fifteen minutes of continuous sucking the baby had finally had his fill and pulled away from Lenore’s breast, making an awkward gurgling sound, a tiny bit of milk dribbling down his chin. Harry took the baby from her and with a cloth draped over his shoulder, rested the child against his chest, gently patting his back. “Got to burp him, so he doesn’t get gas and get all fussy later,” he said, turning his back to Lenore.

Her breasts felt strange, and although the one that had been suckled by the infant felt less full, it was clearly still bigger than her right breast. She frowned, and tried to refasten her bra, but with the new found bulk, found that she could not situate it properly. “Great,” she muttered, and then giggled as she heard the baby burp.

Harry had kissed the child on the forehead and placed him back in the bassinette. “I think you worked a miracle, he’s never gone straight to sleep after a feed without fussing,” Harry smiled, but his lips flipped into a frown. “Are you alright?” he gazed at her, trying not to look at her still somewhat exposed chest.

“I think so, though this is a bit awkward,” she said, trying to further assess the situation. “Should I attempt to drain— er— maybe…” she sighed.

“Well, he does tend to get fussy and hungry ever four to six hours or so…” Harry took a step toward her and offered her his hand. “I mean, I don’t know if you had plans or— but if you— maybe you wouldn’t mind—”

“No, no plans. I could— I mean— for the boy— and breast feeding is best—” she looked down to the floor.

“Er—” Harry fumbled for words.

“Um…” she trailed off and then pulled her top fully over her awkward mismatched breasts. Both of them stood there gazing at each other, blushing. “Maybe I should um—”

Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

“Ok!” she cried, pulling back a bit suddenly. “Not at all what I was expecting—”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes frantically searching around the room. Her sudden exclamation had not woken the baby, and it was a good excuse to not look directly into her eyes. “I don’t know what came over me— I just— and then you—”

It was Lenore’s lips that pressed gently against his this time, quieting his spray of incoherent words. Harry closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss for a moment, and then he slowly pulled back. “I just wasn’t expecting…” she trailed off. “You’re recently divorced,” she said, and tilted her head away.

“Yeah,” he said, “You’re not married, are you?” he said with a bit of a grin.

“No,” she shook her head, trying not to look at him, but she could not help the smile that came across her lips. “Er—”

“Well…” he trailed off, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The baby appreciates it,” he said. They both laughed.

“Maybe we could, um, go talk about this, away from the baby?”

“Right,” he said. “Erm— my room— ah, uh, the kitchen would be—”

Lenore bit her lip for a moment and looked at him. “Do you have a couch?”

~*~

Darkness surrounded her, though she could feel warmth against her. Thick, goose-downed warmth rubbing smoothly against her legs, and she noticed for the first time that her legs were bare. It was a sensation, she was noticing a sensation. When was the last time she had felt anything? But it was so difficult to open her eyes, the warmth calling to her, telling her not to move or it would go away. The hand on her brow stroked its fingers gently down her cheek, and she could feel warmth there as well, only moist, a wet rag perhaps. But the darkened warmth was cozy, snug, and very welcoming. Hermione did not want to leave the blackness, the hidden source of a powerful heat.

He watched her and for a moment thought that he saw her eyelids flutter open, but it was only a trick of the light. Severus had brought her back to the cabin, finding it ill equipped at best for trying to revive the girl. Her body temperature had fallen and he worried that hypothermia would soon set in if it hadn’t already. Her clothes were thrown into a pile on the floor near the door, and he’d covered her body in warm blankets after having stripped her of her frozen and somewhat wet garments. There was no bathtub in the cabin, only a tiny water pump in the bathroom, and he wished that he had thought to simply apparate them straight to Hogwarts, or his house, anywhere but the god forsaken shack. But the thought of attempting to apparate again with her condition so unstable did not bode well in his mind.

The damp warmth had returned to her forehead, and she tried to whimper, her throat was dry. Cool glass was pressed against her lips and she felt her head being guided back ever so slightly, her lips parting and water running into her mouth. It was refreshing and although she spluttered a tiny bit, she was able to swallow most of it. A hand stroked gently across her forehead with the wet warmth again, and she longed to see the owner of the hand. Things still felt fuzzy and she could not fathom how or why she’d come to be secluded in such intense darkness, only that she was warm and rather comfortable to stay there.

With as much strength as she could muster, Hermione forced her eyes open. The room was washed in orange, a dim light, glowing from a fire in the wall. She did not recognize her surroundings, though she could see little of them aside from the flames leaping about in the makeshift fireplace. “Wha…?” she managed, her throat scratchy.

He said nothing, watching as the girl struggled to open her eyes, and when she did he remained seated in the wooden chair by her bedside, damp cloth in hand, ready to stroke it across her forehead again. She’d spiked a fever several hours after he’d tucked her into the bed, and he’d stayed by her side the entire time. The glass of water rested on the small table, which was really more of a buffered tree stump, next to the bed. Severus curled his fingers around it and guided it to her lips, carefully pouring the contents into her mouth, massaging his thumb at her throat to help her to swallow.

Hermione felt the cool water rush down her throat, and she swallowed, tilting her head upright. Her vision was still blurred as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Gleaming dark orbs, pale skin, and jet black hair floated before her. “Snape,” she managed, unsure as to why he was hovering over her bedside.

Severus said nothing. Though he dabbed the damp cloth against her forehead, slightly less gentle than he’d been before, and his hands rested in his lap as he watched the girl struggling to take in her surroundings.

She could see little more than the flames on the wall, jumping from the makeshift fireplace. The cabin, she was in the cabin, but why? Her mind was muddled, clouded as if a heavy fog had settled on it and she couldn’t quite shake it away. Pulmarian Root, she’d come seeking it in the north eastern mountainous woods of Russia. Had she found the root? How had she ended up back at the cabin with no recollection of having left it? Why was she in bed, apparently incapacitated? A hundred questions buzzed through her mind but none so urgent as the one regarding the man before her. “What are you doing here?” she blurted out.

His acid tongue was ready to shoot a poisonous barb that would have stung for a month, but he held his words. Although he had shown concern for the girl, he had not, however, forgotten his rage toward the situation, merely letting it boil at the back of his mind and now it was chasing to the foreground. For a moment the idea of simply placing the girl under a well crafted imperious curse crossed his mind, but he was never one for simple. “The simple answer to your question, Granger, is that I require your signature on a ministry document to place your son up for adoption.”

The baby. Her mind reeled as many thoughts came flooding in. She’d left the boy in the ministry’s care, and of course they would have come seeking Severus out, what choice would they have had? And she had come, however ill-equipped, to Russia seeking Pulmarian Root in a final attempt at her work on the cure for lycanthropy. And then that strange girl had shown up at the door, Lenore, unannounced, and just as strange as something out of the twilight zone. Her eyes scanned the cabin, the girl was no where to be seen. It occurred to Hermione that perhaps after she had stormed out of the cabin that Lenore had simply left, or maybe was in the front part of the cabin. Her head hurt, too many thoughts and questions.

He watched, almost in amusement, as her eyes flickered about, darting all around the tiny room and then filling with confusion as if her internal processor was broken. “You would have made things much easier for all parties involved had you not foolishly attempted to outfit an impossible expedition, Granger.”

Her eyes fell on him. He was addressing her. “I…” and for a moment she nearly apologized. “What are you doing here again?” she said, a sense of anger swelling inside her.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, it’s bad enough that I’ve had to waste the last nine hours babysitting you like some infantile moron because you decided to turn yourself into a popsicle.”

“How dare you!” she snapped. “I didn’t ask for you to take care of me.”

“Yes, perhaps I would have been better off leaving you out in that snow bank so that you could freeze to death,” he snarled and stood abruptly from the chair. It scraped against the hardwood floor, clattering backward into the wall as he paced over toward the fireplace. He was losing his temper. Lenore had gone to seek out his bastard child. No one knew that Hermione Granger had ventured to the snowy Russian mountains, and as far as he was concerned she could still be out there wandering. Swooping back toward her, he leaned forward and hoisted her out of the bed, and up onto his shoulder.

“What are you doing!” she cried, and shivered, the loss of her blankets causing the chill of the room to set in, despite the fireplace. It dawned on her then that she was naked. “Put me down! Stop it!” she struggled against him.

“You ran off into the cold, I should have left you where I found you, you’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you entered my classroom.” He snapped. “Six years was enough, and I finally got blessed relief when you took off galavanting about in your seventh year, but no, you had to tumble deceptively back into my life and ruin what little shreds of happiness I had.” He growled, stomping into the front room of the cabin.

“Get off me!” she pounded her fists hard against his back, struggling to detangle herself from his grip. Did he really mean to toss her back out into the snow?

“Such a clever girl, aren’t you, Granger? Well then cleverly figure your way back out of that snow bank on your own!” The pounding on his back did little to deter him. If she died in the snow why should he care? The little chit was ungrateful and it was an understatement, he was better off without her. If they found her corpse frozen in the snow, his signature would be the only one needed to turn the brat over to be adopted. Rage blinded him, and the pain of losing Nalina and his daughter filled him as he reached forward for the door.

“Please!” she shouted. Hermione grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged hard against his locks. It jarred his head backward and he growled, crying out in pain. His hand gripped the handle to the door and pulled it open with a loud whoosh. She shrieked as he tried to stumble forward but an icy gale shot through the door blasting them both back. Severus lost his balance and she slid down off his shoulder, crumpling against the ground as snow and icy whisked into the cabin. “Close the door!” she cried.

It was freezing against his face, as Severus tried to surge forward to push the door shut, panting and struggling as the wind resisted him. He threw his weight against the wood, feeling something snap in his leg but he did not cry out. Another gust of wind surged against the door and nearly blew him back, for all intents and purposes he should have flown across the cabin and been slammed into the wall, but another weight countered against his backside, pushing against him as he pushed against the door. They struggled, her forcing her weight against him and he against the door, until finally the wood latched into the frame and the wind was forced out of the cabin.

Severus sank down against the door, leg throbbing, panting in exhaustion. His hair clung to his face as beads of sweat trickled down his temple. Hermione, still naked, gazed at him, having backed up when the door finally shut, and she darted into the bedroom, returning a moment later with one of the blankets wrapped around her, another in her hand. “You’re bleeding,” she pointed her finger to the blood trickling down his chin.

A splinter of rough wood protruded from his face from where he’d slammed himself hard against the door to keep them both from freezing to death as the cold wind had raped the interior of the cabin. Without so much as a flinch he pulled the splinter from his face, allowing more blood to gush forth, and tossed it onto the floor. It wasn’t his face that stung, not nearly as bad as his leg. Severus moved his hand over his right knee and felt the cap that had shifted down below the joint, he’d somehow managed to dislocate his kneecap.

“You’re hurt,” she said, watching him. Only moments ago he’d tried to expel her from the cabin, but now she stood there, gazing at his hand as he gripped his knee. “Oh you shouldn’t—” a horrendous crack echoed through the cabin as he forced his kneecap back into place, his face twisting in anguish, his breathing labored.

His robes had been blasted thoroughly by the wind, ice shards and snow soaking through them to his skin. The chill was sinking in. He gazed over to Hermione, a broken man, and his eyes began to weep. She had cost him everything, she was a poison, he could not even remove her from his presence. He should have left her in the snow bank. Severus let his eyes fall closed, but the moment he did, he felt her tiny hand on his own, and his eyes flew open, enraged. “You incompetent, vile, pathetic excuse for a witch!” he snapped. “Sign the god-damned paper and leave me be!”

“Leave you— you’re the one that came up here to find me!”

“Because you have dumped a burden into my lap that I wish to have no part of!” he snarled, climbing slowly to his feet. Rational thought was seeping through his vengeful wishes to just slaughter her in the most excruciating way possible. Perhaps if she could feel his pain then she’d understand, but he could not muster the strength to do her physical harm. “Out!” he growled. “Out!”

Hermione stood, huddled into her sheet, and closed her eyes. She turned on her heel and dashed into the bedroom, slamming the door. Again Severus sank to the floor, his knee still throbbing, his face still bleeding, the cold chill soaking into his bones. If he did not warm his body, surely he too would freeze to death. But he would not move, what point was there to saving one’s self when all that you cared for in the world was no longer yours?

She sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaking down her face. The fire roared and she tried to shake her head, hoping it would stop her foolish crying. Marble carvings seemed to dance along the lining of the fireplace, reminding her of the one in the front room of the cabin. But when she’d arrived at the cabin there had only been one fireplace, the one in the front room. She frowned. Had he moved the fireplace into the bedroom to tend to her while she recovered from her semi-self inflicted frozen wounds?

It only took her a few moments to reappear in the doorway. “You’re going to freeze to death in here. The only fire is in the bedroom.” She said flatly. He did not lift his head to look at her as she spoke. “You need to come in here to stay warm. And you should get out of that wet clothing,” she said, and her face flushed as she realized that he would have had to have stripped her of her own wet garments while she was unconscious to keep her body from contracting hypothermia.

Severus said nothing, gazing down into his lap, trying hard to think of Nalina and how he might see her on the other side. The light in the room was growing dim. Hermione sounded somewhat distant to him, as if she were standing very far away.

“Severus Snape, this is not the ideal situation, I know that, you don’t want to be here anymore than I want you to be here, but no amount of skulking in the corner or blaming me is going to bring her back,” she said. It was the first Gryffindor thing that had come out of her mouth in a long time. But her words fell to deaf ears and he didn’t budge. He had made it quite clear to her that he had not meant to rescue her, and if she had had it her way, she would have let him freeze to death in the front room of the cabin, but Hermione Granger was no murderer.

Stepping lightly over to him, she grabbed both of his hands and tugged him to his feet, surprising herself with her strength. She pulled him into the bedroom and shut the door. He stood there, eyes ablaze, but empty in a strange paradoxical way, gazing not at her, but almost through her. It was almost more frightening than his anger had been moments ago.

“Snape, Severus Snape, snap out of it.” She said, turning her back to him. “Take those wet clothes off so you don’t freeze to death, and wrap up in one of these blankets,” she tossed one from the bed over her back, unable to see where she was aiming. The blanket landed near his feet.

Still he did not move. Personally she didn’t care if he lived or died, and for as miserable as he had been to her, the battle between the devil and angel on her shoulder secretly was leaning toward death, however, she was not keen to have his demise resting on her conscience. “Think like Slytherin, think like Slytherin,” the little devil pacing on her shoulder seemed to whisper. Her attentions turned to the angel on the opposing shoulder. “What she said,” and the haloed figure shrugged its shoulder.

An idea struck her. Hermione tightened the blanket around her, tying it in a knot just beneath her armpit, before turning to face him. “It’s a shame that pretty little dead Nalina isn’t here to see what a wonderful coward you’ve become, some role model father you would have been to your daughter,” she tried her best to sneer.

It seemed to do the trick, exactly what she’d hoped for, too exact, perhaps. Severus stormed across the room, grabbing Hermione by the throat, and thrust her hard against the wall. She could barely breathe. “Mention her name again and I promise you the only piece of you they’ll find is the skin fragments beneath my nails when I’m through with you…” he hissed. His black eyes burned like oil bubbling hot in a tar pit.

Although she was not a killer, it did little to comfort her knowing that he had killed, on many occasions. His grip was tight on her throat and she tried to close her eyes, slowly trying to calm her breathing. It wasn’t working. Her heart raced faster in her chest, and just as she could feel the fuzzy blackness slipping over her, his fingers released her flesh and her feet fell to the ground. The wall behind her kept her balance as he took a step back.

The room was warmer, though only just so in comparison to the front of the cabin, but he was still wearing soaked robes. “Sign the paper,” he hissed.

“Get out of that wet clothing before you blame me for your hypothermic condition,” she snapped, amazed at herself for continuing to have such an outright display of lunacy before him, as it was far past the level of just courage.

“Granger…” he growled taking a step toward her, grabbing her by the throat once more. But her hands came forward, both of them grabbing his hair and yanking hard. He growled, and she hissed, both of them falling to the floor, her crumpled at an awkward angle on her side and he on his hands and knees. Hermione’s fingers were still tangled in his hair, tugging.

“Dry yourself off and warm yourself up and I’ll sign your damn paper,” she hissed, tugging again on his locks for emphasis.

Severus lifted one hand and like a viper it shot forward into her hair and grabbed the whole bushy mass into his fist. He tugged hard and managed to flip the girl over onto her back, forcing the weight of his body down onto her. In essence he was crushing her, still tugging hard on her hair, though she did not release her hold on his tresses either.

Hermione panted, hardly able to breathe, her body shivering and convulsing, the sheet having fallen way in their scuffle. His cold, wet robes were pressed against her bare skin. “Get off me!” she squirmed and released his hair, tugging at his robes, trying to pull the intense cold from her body.

He was breathing hard, struggling against her, trying to keep her pinned to the floor beneath his weight, but the cold was exhausting him. Her hands gripped the fabric of his shirt and began to tear at it and he heard fabric ripping as she exposed his chest, water glistening and dripping from it down onto her. Severus’ eyes burned holes into hers as he growled and stabbed his knee between her legs, trying to straddle her hips and keep her in place.

“Damnit,” she cried, feeling her head smack back against the leg of the bed, and tiny little birds seemed to float before her eyes if only for a moment. Again her fingers began to tear at his garments, tugging hard at his hair, all the while her body struggling beneath him, and the wind whipping fiercely at the walls of the cabin, making it shake slightly. He growled and she squeaked in protest as he twisted her arm about, trying to free his hair from her knuckles.

Hermione forced her head up off the floorboards and sank her teeth into his lower lip. She’d mean to bite at his neck, only he’d moved his head lower, trying to crawl up her body and pin her arms above her head. Severus released a guttural groan, and his lips struggled against hers, teeth gnashing into her lower lip. Blood spilled between them, his blood into her mouth and her blood into his mouth. Her tongue swiped at her own bleeding lip, and he tried to lap at his own injury, stroking past her tongue as he did. And then his tongue was in her mouth, rough and invasive, his hands tugging hard at her hair, pulling her face to his.

She squealed, forcing her tongue against his, her body bucking up beneath him, her hands pushing on his chest, and then clawing at his chest, tearing at his robes. He did not resist her, caught in some spell, as her hands grabbed at his collar and freed him of his outer robe. The heavy garment soaked with water and ice thumped to the floor and she scrambled out from beneath him as he tried to remove his shirt. Hermione was panting, her lip still bleeding as she moved behind him, on her feet, and pulled him up to standing. His hands covered her body, grabbing at her hips, and her thighs, and she fumbled with the nearly frozen fastenings on his trousers.

Wet garments forgotten Severus growled, lifting her off her feet and tossing her back against the bed. He shivered, the room cold, but his blood hot. Hermione thrust her legs up around his waist, clawing at his back as his body crushed hers to the mattress. There was a shriek and a moan as he pushed into her, feeling the slick heat of her core, too intensely hot, warming his chilled flesh. She cried out, tugging again at his hair as her hips arched up to meet his, thrusting and pumping.

The sheets tangled around them as they fucked, frantically tossing limbs around one another, panting and growling, biting and crying out. He came, panting, and she came, whimpering, feeling his body slick now with sweat, warm and no longer coated in tiny bits of icy, as he collapsed on top of her. “Get off me…” she panted, unable to breathe.

Severus did not oblige her, grabbing her shoulder and forcing her onto her side, keeping himself within her, not wanting to lose the heat of her body. She shifted, trembling, afraid to move but afraid to stay. It had all happened so quickly and her body was exhausted, she felt hot, she couldn’t breathe, and the dark haze from before was surging through her mind, swelling around her eyes. She met the darkness huddled close against his body as his eyes fell shut, his chest still heaving, a mass of sheets tangled around their still joined bodies.