Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul

A/N: Cinderelly lives! I am so so sorry for the eternity that passed between this chapter and the last. All sorts of hectic happenings seemed to occur all at once- and then I caught some sort of prehistoric-futuristic cave-man space plague, but was better the day I left for Ayer's rock- 8 days in the wilderness with no technology, whee! But here it is, a long awaited update, and I hope you'll forgive me if it's not quite to the point of tying up loose ends- but we're trucking along. Thank you all for reviewing! And thanks for the keys to the chocolate factory and to whoever was defending me against that idiot was like "Uh...I'm a genius this sucks ass" I promise I'll give you guys some more personalized feedback on your feedback next time! Thanks for continuing to read and review!! Onward ho!


Pomona Sprout had all but dozed off with bubbles up to her neck in the prefect’s bathroom. It wasn’t often that the woman took to the students’ bath, as the staff bathroom was far more luxurious, but she’d been turned backwards and around while caught on one of the castles ever-shifting staircases, and had found herself too tired to retreat back down the insurmountable amount of corridors that it would take to return her to the right side of the castle. Jasmine and lavender filled her nostrils as she drifted into that peaceful state of semi-consciousness, somewhere halfway between nodding off and deep slumber. She was startled awake by the sound of someone clearing their throat rather loudly and she nearly drowned, sinking beneath the bubbles and swallowing a mouthful of the scented water.

Coughing and spluttering, she turned her head left and right trying to see where the disturbance to her otherwise peaceful bubble bath had come from. Again the disembodied voice cleared its throat. The Herbology professor crossed her arms over her chest, sending bubbles floating into the air, and she frowned. “Where are you this time?” she grumbled aloud.

“Pardon me,” Albus Dumbledore appeared beside the mermaid in her portrait and made to sit on the rock. With a rather indignant huff, the mermaid leapt off her perch and into the water, flipping her tail in the air before disappearing completely from sight. The former headmaster sighed and then turned his attentions to the woman in the prefect’s bathtub. “So sorry to disturb you in the bath, Pomona,” he said.

She sighed. “If you’ve come to tell me that you think there’s a disturbance in the force or some other yoda muggle mumbo jumbo—”

Albus chuckled, stroking his fingers down his long, white beard. “Hardly, Pomona, hardly, though the matter is still quite serious, I fear I need no longer be quite so cryptic about it,” he nodded.

Sitting fully upright in the tub, she focused her eyes on the portrait the older wizard was occupying. “Well? Are you going to tell me what’s going on or are you going to make me sit here in the bath and play guessing games all night?”

~*~

Ginny Weasley had pressed her back up against the wall of the hotel room. She was caught halfway between father and son, Lucius having relinquished his grip on her shoulder as she’d stood. Both sets of gray eyes were focused intently on her, and all she wanted to do was close her own eyes and apparate away. But knowing that it would only anger the elder Malfoy, and potentially confuse the younger one, plus the fact she was certain the hotel had wards against apparation, she remained still. The phrasing of Sir Walter Scott came to mind, Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive and she mentally cursed herself for being foolish enough to involve herself with one Malfoy, let alone two.

Thoughts blurred about in a whiz behind her eyes but only one image came into focus, and try as she might to ignore it, the alleyway was there, clear as day, a vision so alive it could have been right in front of her had it not been a fleeting memory.

The ally was dark. But he had insisted that they meet after sundown, so as best not to be seen in each other’s company. She didn’t much like the idea of waiting in a dark ally where shadows crept along the walls, and cats skulked by, hissing at her as they passed, but she had refused to meet him at his home, knowing that some ill-fated horror would await her there. Thick, black velvet was drawn up over her head, hanging down in her eyes, hiding her face, but giving her just enough of a peephole to gaze out into the night.

Her body tensed, nearly jumping up out of her skin as a hand clamped down on her shoulder. He had appeared from behind her, though how she wasn’t sure as she was certain the rubbish bins behind her would have alerted her to his presence, or surely she would have heard him apparating. Though it did occur to her that he was more careful and far stealthier than to just arrive like some common wizard and be noticed in doing so. After all, he could have written the book on sneaking around.

She turned; her eyes careful as she looked up into the graying irises of Lucius Malfoy. He too donned a heavy black cloak over his head, tucking the long strands of his blonde hair out of sight. Tilting his head slightly forward, he acknowledged the girl and then reached into the folds of his cloak, withdrawing a phial stoppered with a tiny black gem. It was a potion bottle that looked as if it had been pulled straight out of the fairytale realm, something perhaps from Snow White. The label on the glass was black with a white skull and crossbones, the liquid inside as red as the apple that did the fairytale princess in.

With a trembling hand she took the bottle and tucked it into her own cloak, wide brown eyes gazing up at him, waiting. The thin lips of Lucius Malfoy curled into a smirk. “Don’t worry now, I’ll receive your payment later…”

His tone did nothing to ease her mind, and the fact that he had bothered to say ‘don’t worry’ made her worry all the more. “You’re sure this will work?” she asked.

“Most certain.” He said, voice low.

“And it’s only temporary, I want to be able to have children some day, just—” she hesitated but only for a moment. “—just not with him, and especially not now.” Again the man nodded. She didn’t want to linger any longer than was necessary, so without another word, Ginny Weasley turned around, took a few steps down the ally and then disapparated with a soft pop.

But as quickly as it had appeared in her mind was as quickly as the memory vanished, leaving her once more pinned between the cold and intense stares of father and son. No one spoke. In her hand she held the manila envelope, her eyes switching focus from Draco to Lucius and back.

“Do tell us,” Lucius hissed with a sneer. “What you hold in that little envelope, my dear Ginevra…”

~*~

Wide brown eyes gazed at the ceiling. It was a nightmare. A dream and nothing more; or it simply had to be. Her body was stiff; she ached in places that were all too reminiscent of the last time she’d made the identical mistake that had landed her in her current situation. But it had all happened so quickly— the freezing out in the snow, him trying to throw her back into said snow, said snow trying to dominate the cabin when he tried to throw her out, the fighting, the biting, and then the deed itself. Hermione longed to groan, frustration pent up inside her like an angry boiler ready to spew, but she dared not make a sound for fear of waking one Severus Snape and earning the wroth of his ill-begat temper upon his realization of their fornications.

The black eyes of Severus Snape, unbeknownst to Hermione Granger, were wide awake and gazing at the wall of the cabin’s tiny bedroom. His back was facing the girl he’d all too quickly reacquainted himself with, and regret was heavy on his mind. He’d allowed the little chit to get the better of him— to goad him into trying to eviscerate her, though the best he’d managed was to pump a load of his DNA inside her once more. And the only blessed relief to be found in that thought was that the girl beside him had only given birth to his bastard child but a fortnight ago, and thus was not yet ovulating. He longed to sigh, but did not long to wake the villainous vixen beside him, though thoughts of trying to forge her hand to the document while she slept was tempting.

It wasn’t her pressing need to relieve the strain on her bladder that often followed intercourse or his temptations of attempting to force her signature that instantly displaced them from the warmth of the tangled sheets and their supposed slumber, but rather the puissant rumble that shook the ceiling and walls of the cabin. Without realizing it, Hermione had awkwardly turned into his figure, her arms flung around his shoulders. A frozen wind gusted through the chimney and extinguished the flames in the fireplace in one almighty whoosh. Creaks and groans gave out as the wood of the cabin began to buckle and splinter against itself.

Severus, though a bit tangled in the sheets, pulled himself out of the bed; Hermione pressed close to his person, and forged his way into the tiny room that served as the bathroom. It was just large enough for the two of them to stand, though it too shook with the rest of the diminutive cabin. Again the wind whooshed in from outside sending a frozen blast into the bedroom. Before Hermione realized what he’d done, she was being dragged down a dark hole, light disappearing from overhead until it was gone completely and the two of them were plunged in complete darkness.

~*~

The bed sheets were draped lazily over Lenore’s torso, her head resting in the crook of Harry’s shoulder. She smiled, her doe-like eyes gazing up at him, one hand scratching her nails idly through the smattering of curls growing on his chest. She pursed her lips as if to speak but the sound of a squealing baby interrupted whatever it was that she was going to say. “I should—”

“Here let me—” Harry smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Yeah, go ahead, I’ll wait here.”

Taking the sheets and wrapping them around her like an ancient Greek toga, Lenore left his bedroom and swept down the hall to the nursery. The little baby, who still remained nameless, (neither Harry nor Lenore feeling fit enough to bestow a title upon the boy) was crying with his eyes shut, rolling about on his back. The rocking chair faced the window and the crying ceased as soon as she had brought the child to her bosom. It was no less a strange sensation the second time around, as Lenore sat and breastfed her now dead sister’s almost husband’s illegitimate son.

“He takes to you so much better than he did that bottle,” Harry said. He had appeared in the doorway to the nursery, wearing only his boxer shorts; an unfortunate bright orange pair embossed with the Chudley Cannons logo that Ron had given him years ago for his birthday.

Lenore flushed slightly at the compliment but had to stifle her laughter as she turned to see his rather kitsch undergarments. She said nothing and returned her gaze to the window.

“What?”

“I can’t look at you in those ridiculous shorts, Harry Potter, I’ll burst into a fit of giggles!” she said, failing to keep the laughter from her voice.

“Oh,” he smiled. “Er— when you’re finished with the baby—” he frowned. “You know— he really does need a name…”

“I know,” she said, feeling the boy’s tiny little lips slipping off her nipple. “Ah… there you go…” she cooed and kissed the baby on the top of his head. “Do you want to burp him? You were so good at it before…” Lenore stood from the rocking chair, carefully handing the baby to Harry. The white sheet had slipped from her body but she was quick to pull it back up and cover herself. It wasn’t that she felt embarrassed, not considering that she’d just had a rousing round of the most amazing sex in her life with War Hero Harry Potter, but she didn’t want to be exposed in front of the baby.

With the child draped over his bare shoulder, Harry paced slowly around the room, tapping him gently with two fingers on his back. “Ah, there.” He said after the baby had made a tiny little noise, so soft that one could hardly call it a burp. “And back to bed with you…” he smiled and also placed a gentle kiss on the top of the baby’s head before returning it to the bassinette. As he turned to face Lenore a sound much like the ringing of a muggle doorbell echoed through the house.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“That’ll be the postman…” he said.

“At this hour?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Magical post. Must be the package I ordered for the baby.” Striding from the room and out into the hallway, Harry made his way down to the entrance landing of his split level house. Sure enough there was a tiny goblin waiting on the stoop as he pulled the front door open. “Thanks,” he said. Lifting the parcel, which was nearly twice the size of the miniscule little man, he tipped the postman a galleon and closed the door.

“What is it?” Lenore asked, appearing at the landing of the stairs.

“It’s a mobile that I saw in a catalog, I figured it would be a nice thing for the baby.” He smiled.

Harry squatted cross-legged on the floor, after carrying the box up the stairs. Foam packing peanuts were everywhere, but in the middle of the mess was a lovely brass rod that looked like an umbrella, only stripped of its cloth skin. The arms, or hooks if you could call them that, extended far longer than one might expect on your average mobile, in fact, it looked as if the contraption would be too large to hang over the bassinette.

“It’s blank.” She frowned.

“No it isn’t, it just requires assembly.” He reached into the box, sending more peanuts flying, Harry pulled out a purple padded envelope and a green padded envelope. “Here,” he tossed one of the envelopes to Lenore.

Hand-eye coordination no longer what it once was, the package slipped through her fingers and fell to the floor. Lenore swore that she heard a tiny squeak. She retrieved the package, tightened her sheet around her chest, and sat on the floor beside Harry, who had already ripped open the top of the purple envelope.

“Oh my goodness!” she cried. Harry poured the contents of the envelope out onto the floor. No more than three inches high, tiny plastic figurines, more than seemed likely to have fit in the envelope they’d just fallen from, arranged themselves in front of Harry’s feet. It was a miniature Quidditch team, dressed in purple robes; three chasers, two beaters, a keeper, and seeker. Lenore quickly ripped open her own envelope discovering that her team was clad in green robes but otherwise identical to the little figurines from Harry’s envelope.

“Now let’s see…” he said and began placing various little figurines on different arms of the mobile. Harry smiled after all fourteen figures, complete with broomsticks and bludger bats, were strung on the base.

“There’s still a bunch of empty hooks,” said Lenore.

“Well there are three empty ones at this end, and this end—” he reached into the box and pulled out a small yellow box. Opening the box revealed six metal hoops, just like an actual Quidditch pitch. “And this one—” a black and white plastic bag was removed from the box and as he tore into it, a tiny plastic referee appeared in his hand. “Let’s see…these two…” his hand scraped around in the box still mostly filled with packing peanuts, despite the hundreds on his living room floor. “Aha!” he cried.

“What is it?” she tilted her head to the side and watched as Harry withdrew a tiny chest from the box. “Is that actually a mini Quidditch chest?”

“They don’t skimp on the details.” Pushing the tiny clasp up, Harry hung the quaffle, two bludgers, and golden snitch on their hooks. “There, it’s perfect.” He smiled.

“That is quite astonishing.”

“Now,” Harry rose from his pile of peanuts and with a little difficulty, picked up the Quidditch mobile and carried it back into the nursery. It took him a moment to place it at just the right angle so the majority of the mobile hung over the bassinette. A large golden snitch was the center point at the top of the base. Giving it a squeeze, Harry stepped back and watched as all the players and balls on the Quidditch mobile sprang to life, as if they were playing a real life, if miniature, game. Little lights glistened from the hooks and very soft, soothing ocean sounds echoed from the base. “Now that is awesome.” He said.

Lenore smiled. “It really is…” she let her voice fall as they crept out of the nursery. “Maybe we should…um…”

“Talk?” he asked.

“Yeah…” she bowed her head. That, of course, was what they had intended to do after he’d kissed her the first time. “Although…I wouldn’t mind going back to bed…it is warm in there…” she smiled.

Harry flushed, his cheeks only slightly pink. “Ok.” He said and took Lenore by the hand, leading her back down the hallway toward his bedroom.

~*~

“What happened?” Hermione cried, unable to see anything. “Where are we? What have you done?”

Severus remained silent. Was the girl honestly that stupid? He bit his tongue to keep from biting her head off. It took him a moment to realize that he did not have his wand; it somehow had fallen from his person somewhere along the way, though whether it was in his initial scuffle with the girl or the one from just moments ago, he couldn’t be sure. He closed his eyes, not that it made much of a difference, for even with his eyes wide open he could not see the nose in front of his face. Clearing his mind he attempted a wordless spell. But they remained in the dark.

“What’s happened? Where are you?” she repeated. Her voice was shrill, squeaking out in panic. There was a stumbling sound and she shrieked. Another bump and a boom had her practically in tears and then a soft amber glow filled the tiny room. “What the hell are you doing?”

Between his thumb and forefinger Severus held a match. It was barely enough light to see his own hand, but he could just make out the fear in her features as he moved closer toward her. It was not a long lived moment in the light as the match burned out, plunging them into darkness once more. He struck a second match, glancing around as best he could in the dark until his eyes settled on something suitable. Taking three steps forward he stopped as the match burned out, lit another, and then continued crossing the space. The dull amber glow of the match burst into the room as he dropped it into a bowl.

With a much stronger light in the space he could more properly see that his assumption of underground storage was correct. Beneath the cabin, accessed by the bathroom as the Russians often did, was a storeroom used for keeping extra firewood, dried food and other provisions in the event of horrific storms. He had seen what he hoped was an old fashioned lamp oil dish and he had been correct, the match now burning some primitive type of fuel.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked, gazing straight at Severus.

“Obviously we are beneath the cabin.”

She rolled her eyes. “What happened? Why did the cottage feel like it was about to collapse?”

Her inane questioning really did push his buttons at times. “Perhaps it’s because it was about to.” He spat. “The storm must have gotten worse.”

She said nothing, but closed her eyes, concentrating on something. She patted her thigh as if feeling for her pocket, realizing that she wore only the tangled cotton of the bed sheet. “Bugger!” she cried. “Wordless wandless magic is bloody near impossible!”

“It wouldn’t matter,” he said flatly. “In a storm like this magic would do us little good anyway. If the snow has collapsed the cabin, and from the sounds of things that is most likely, it would have created an elemental seal rendering our wands useless anyhow.”

“So what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to get out of here?”

Severus said nothing. It was clearly a point to panic about, though he was not going to show her any signs that he had not digested the problem that far. If he had not pulled them into the bathroom and beneath the cabin into the safety of the storage area in which they now sat, they both would have been crushed under the collapsed wood of the walls and roof, not to mention the heavy weight of the freezing snow. They wouldn’t starve— at least, not for a while, though upon first glance Severus was uncertain as to how many other containers of oil there were. It was freezing as it was and they were dressed in bed sheets. Though he was certain if the temperature didn’t kill them— they would kill each other— or at least he would kill her, dreading the thought of having to survive with the know-it-all in the current circumstance.

“It’s freezing.” She said.

“Granger, you would do well to stop announcing the obvious. In fact you would do well to stop announcing anything at all.” He hissed.

She longed to shout, to scream at him, throw something at him, but her tongue was caught in her throat as something glistening and pale caught her eye from the corner. “Wh— wh— what the hell is that?” she shrieked.

Rolling his eyes Severus stepped over to where she was pointing, adjusting his own bed sheet further up around his torso. Although her comment had been unnecessary, it had certainly not been inaccurate. Tracing his gaze to where the two corners of the room met his eyes widened. Propped against a stack of what appeared to firewood were two skeletons, huddled over one another, presumably for warmth. If God was out there, he certainly had a sick idea of come-upence.

“Are they— did they—” Hermione started to cry.

“Quit your blubbering, Granger, unless you want the tears to freeze to your face and bring you to their current state of being that much faster,” he spat, gesturing toward the two skinless bodies. Severus stared around the room; it was much bigger than the bathroom, though not as big as the cabin’s bedroom had been, however, most of the space was taken up by supplies. It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for, stacked high up on top of a pile of grain feed bags. He pulled three large boxes down and tore back their lids. “Thank Merlin,” he muttered. “Come here, Granger.”

She was hesitant in approaching him, sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m—”

“Shut up.” He said and pulled several large, thick blankets from the boxes. There were five in total, all of the big enough to cover both of them well. Taking the bowl of oil from where it sat, he moved to the middle of the room and began to rearrange many barrels that were most likely filled with salted meat or dried cheese, so that it created a circled enclosure. They were taller than he was and very full, so moving them was quite difficult, but after a short while he was satisfied. “Get in there.” He said and pointed, putting the bowl of burning oil just at the entrance. Draping the thinnest, but also the longest blanket over the top of the barrels he managed to make, though rather poorly, a tented and walled in enclosure just large enough for the two of them to lay on the floor inside.

Moving into the barrel tent, Severus laid the thickest blanket across the ground and then sat down, leaning against one of the heavy barrels. He slid down until he was flat on his back, having left just enough room to stretch his legs out with his head just slightly bumping one of the barrels. Hermione bit her lower lip. “Don’t just stand there— unless you intend to end up like those skeletons.”

“I don’t see how this is going to help.”

Sitting up, he shot his hand forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down beside him, roughly forcing her onto her side, pulling her sheet off her body. Hermione yelped and wriggled, trying to move away from him as he held her against his body in a spoon position. “Hold still, damnit,” he hissed, and pressed his hand hard against her hip until she was whimpering, but no longer struggling. Severus released her hip and quickly draped the remaining three blankets over them, using the sheets that had been formerly wrapped around their bodies as pillows. “Body heat will keep us alive.” He said simply. “I don’t want to hear another word from you for at least the next two hours.”

Hermione laid still, her naked flesh pressed against his, tears trickling down her cheek. Things were awful, but at least they weren’t going to freeze to death. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of anything, especially not about the man that was behind her, essentially saving her life with his nakedness; hoping that somebody would be merciful and allow sleep to come to her.