And So It Comes To This

The next visit went much like the one before.



To his relief, Severus did not lose contact with the Pensieve until the vision and both orgasms had ended, however he found himself with an erection that would not die, despite his climax.



He tried masturbating to no avail; it was too sensitive and too soon. He splashed a little water on it and nothing happened. He finally lay hunched in keen misery until the hourglass emptied and Hermione cautiously turned to glance back at him. He said nothing as she put away the hourglass, book and earmuffs, then moved the stool closer to him.



He kept his hands over his crotch, futilely trying to hide his tumescence, even as he wondered why it refused to go away.



Hermione noted his misery and opted to speak despite both of their discomfort.



"I've read of this. Sometimes when a man's need is too great or gone too long unanswered, he'll develop a persistent priapic state."



He cleared his throat and said nothing.



"I take it climax didn't help?"



He shook his head, refusing to look at her.



"I think I know something that might."



He did look up at this, only to jump as she leaned closer and placed a warm, gentle hand on him.



"W-wha-"



"It's okay. Just count off the time so I don't touch you longer than a minute."



She began to gently rub his erection, and he groaned, even as his thighs clenched tightly and his back arched. The amazing sensation was almost agonising.



He could say nothing as she stroked, moving his foreskin back and forth over his swollen, red glans, merely watching as she masturbated him without apparent shame or disgust.



He did not count off the time, but it was far less than a minute later that orgasm struck with blinding intensity. He spasmed, keened, and finally fell back atop his cot as he painted them both with his plentiful emission.



After it was over he clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her, from kissing her. He could not touch her, not if he wanted to live. She could touch him, but he could not touch her. He sucked in breaths that felt more like sobs and tried to clear his mind of pointless thoughts.



He watched as she used her wand, waving away his indiscretions.



He stared at her and finally muttered, "I... I appreciate that. Hermione."



She smiled then and whispered, "Think nothing of it. I'm glad to help."



The pained look he gave her made her frown.



"Is something else wrong?"



"No." He cleared his throat.



How long could this go on? He could not keep doing this indefinitely, no matter how pleasurable it was. She was only doing this to get memories from him, testimony as it were. She did not desire him.



This thought basted him with relief as he finally relaxed. This he understood. No one desired him. He sighed. No one ever had.



"Well... have you made a decision?"



Severus looked at her, shackled wrists uselessly covering his genitals where he sat on his cot and nodded.



"I'll give you the memory... on one condition."



He frowned at this, wondering why he'd said that. The words had just come out of his mouth sans filter.



"Name it."



He looked down now, wondering what he could ask. Make it impossible, unlikely, and unrealistic... anything so she could not fulfil it and maybe, just maybe, the Pensieve memories would not have to stop.



"I... I would like the opportunity to experience the real thing... if you ever get me out of here."



There was a silence and he closed his eyes to await her response. She wouldn't, he knew, but would she--



"With me, you mean?"



His gaze snapped up and he nodded carefully. To his surprise, Hermione smiled in a mildly flirtatious way.



"I think I'd like that, Severus."



He swallowed as his cock began to stir, and she turned to fetch a vial from her pocket. "Shall I?"



"No."



She stopped in the middle of opening the vial and waited.



"Let me give you the memories you want."



Hermione nodded, extending her wand to the Pensieve memory and then tapping it back into her own mind. She then pulled the stopper from the vial and began extending her wand toward him, but hesitated.



"I need all relevant events leading up to Dumbledore's death, that night, and the final battle. Ready?"



He closed his eyes and focused, finding it a bit difficult with his now rearing erection and finally nodded.



She touched her wand to his head and slowly, carefully withdrew a long, faltering silvery filament, a wisp of thought that she tapped into the vial and sealed.



"Thank you, Severus."



* * *




"Relevant as I'm sure this new information is, the case is sealed. All criminal cases are closed and sealed after seven years from the trial, to save us from exactly these circumstances, re-trials glutting up the system, adding to our administrative costs--"



"To hell with the administrative costs! We're talking about an innocent man imprisoned for life!"



Stringer, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement and his own legal counsel, an odious female that reminded Hermione of Rita Skeeter, pursed their lips.



"You have not filed all the client refusal forms regarding his acceptable alternatives."



Hermione faltered. "My client is still considering them."



"It. You filed the others already."



"Yes, of course. I misspoke."



Stringer smiled at her, a thin and superior expression that made her want to spit, but she composed herself.



"See that he finishes 'considering' soon. The offer can be rescinded after six months, and you've already had that time."



"I did not utilise four months of visitation due to arguing his case."



"Trying to convince us to use this new technique, you mean. Miss Granger, even if all of us trusted it, and we do not, how could you possibly testify to its accuracy when retrieving the memories of an accomplished Occlumens like Mr. Snape?"



She frowned, and he continued, "You can't. It was a fool's hope."



She drew in a breath. "I see. Very well. I have my work cut out for me."



"Yes. You'd best familiarise yourself with the procedure."



Hermione frowned. "Why?"



"A Healer can do it, but your client has the right to ask his legal counsel to do it."



She sat aghast at the thought, but he merely nodded.



"If that's all then - you can see yourself out, can't you?"



Damn them.



Damn them!



Furious tears ran down Hermione's face, and she was too angry to push them off, walking so fast she was nearly running from the Ministry's alleyway entrance.



She stopped herself before she got to the end of the alley and drew in several breaths. She had to go to him. She had to tell him.



She pulled the vial from her pocket and swallowed. She had to give him back his memories.



What for? For them to take them away again?



She sighed, letting the last of the tears run free and shook her head.



That's assuming he even wants to undertake that alternative.



She didn't think a man like Snape would. She didn't see how he would. She could keep the information to herself, not even let him know, keep working on his case...



No. He deserves to know all his options. Even if they're ugly.



Wiping her eyes free of tears, she gathered herself and Apparated to Hogwarts gates. She had need of their library.



* * *



He sat frozen to his cot, face expressionless. She was not sure if he was stunned or upset.



"Severus?"



"Why did you not let me know this choice earlier?"



Hermione sighed. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd react well to it. I was trying to gain your trust and the offer smacks of..."



"Vengeance."



"Just so."



A shudder ran through him, and she shifted on the stool, moving closer. She badly wanted to touch him, but did not dare. She did not want him to think she was influencing him.



"So from no options to no mind."



"You would have your mind--"



"Devoid of knowledge. Value."



"You could relearn."



"What, Miss Granger? Without magic, I am a common Muggle. A Muggle with a primary school education level and naught but physical labour skills."



She drew in a breath, released it slowly.



"What you say is true, but the documents they provide, I could make sure they include details that would allow you to find work, non-menial work."



"Such as?"



"There are plenty of jobs in the Muggle world that don't require specialised knowledge. You learn as you go and gain competence."



"Office work? Bookkeeping and the like?"



"Yes."



He frowned, wishing he could run a hand through his hair, but he could not.



"How long can I consider this?"



Hermione winced. "Not long. It might be too long already. They told me they can rescind all offers after six months."



He closed his eyes at this, then put his head down.



"Leave me be."



"I'd really rather not lea--"



"You don't have to leave, but I need to be alone with my thoughts for a moment."



She nodded, got up, picked up the stool, and headed for the door of the cell where she sat and waited, wondering what decision he'd make.










"Who would do it?"



She started suddenly, realised she'd nearly been asleep and checked her timepiece. To her surprise, there was an hour and a half left to her visit; he'd come to a swift decision.



"The procedure? A Healer. Or... you could ask me, as your legal counsel to do it. I act in this regard as an Executrix to your wishes."



"My last testament, as it were."



She flinched. "In a manner of speaking."



"You would be the one to see to my immersion?"



She nodded.



"Very well. I accept the Ministry's offer."



Hermione stiffened and she felt the roll of parchment in her pocket shift. It was no coincidence; she knew if she pulled out the form, his acceptance of the offer would be on it since the paper was enchanted. A copy was doubtless on Stringer's desk as well as before the Head Warden of Azkaban.



All it required for completion was administration of the procedure, which, now that he was technically a free man, could take as long as was needed. When she was done, she would tap her copy of the parchment, affixing her magical signature and she could finally remove those dreadful restraints and walk out of Azkaban with him.



"It needn't be done now. I can retur--"



"If it's all the same to you, Hermione, I'd rather get it done with now. One less night in this cell is my only consolation."



Hermione winced, then pulled out the vial. It contained the thoughts she had not yet returned to him, and she cursed herself for thoughtlessness when his calm voice intruded on her whirling thoughts.



"You may keep them, Hermione."



She looked at him, and he smiled slightly, the first smile she'd seen from him.



"It's not like I'll need them."



She swallowed at this bit of self-deprecatory humour and nodded. She tucked it back in her pocket and pulled out a tiny cauldron that she enlarged to full size. He gazed at it, and then back up at her.



"I figured this was apropos. What better container to hold a Potion Masters' memories?"



He swallowed, then nodded, his eyes suddenly bright.



"Indeed."



She began to step up, then paused.



"Severus. I would ask something of you."



He looked at her and nodded.



"I would like to... know you. Before we do this."



He swallowed, and she noted his cock twitched despite the look of distress that followed.



"I..."



She stroked his face gently and pulled back.



"It's difficult but not impossible. You've seen me. I'd like to know you, before--"



"Yes."



She waited and when he said nothing else, she realised he had given her his answer.



Without a word, she began to remove her robes, laying them atop the stool. Her shoes were simple slip-on affairs, and she did not wear hose so there was nothing to fuss with. When she pulled off her soft linen blouse, she looked back to him, and he sat as if entranced, gazing hungrily at her. He looked so hard she wondered if they'd manage to successfully complete their assignation.



Soon, she was bare before him, and he drew in a shuddering breath, releasing it in a whisper of sound.



"Hermione..."



She moved toward him, pausing just before his knees.



"Are you close?"



He swallowed again and nodded tightly.



"Good. We've only one minute."



That said, she glanced at her timepiece and straddled his lap. Then without preamble, Hermione grasped his hardness and slid onto it, letting it pierce her deeply.



She gasped even as he did and began to kiss him heatedly.



To her surprise he was clumsy at that, even as his lower half moved in smooth, sinuous strokes.



Has he never kissed anyone?



But the question was unimportant as she showed him, rode him, and abruptly felt herself stuttering toward climax.



She pulled free of his lips to cry out, and she felt the warm tickle of his trickling seed in the same instant, felt his rigidity and saw how his mouth had fallen open and his eyes had rolled back.



Pushing down one more time, grinding down hard, she shuddered through her climax and fought to catch her breath. She glanced at her timepiece and drew back regretfully. There were eight seconds left.



She managed to stand back from him with two seconds to spare and watched him as he caught his breath.



His head hung down finally and his eyes closed.



"It figures," he murmured in a rough voice.



"What?"



"I finally get a real encounter with a woman and not only can I not touch her, but it must be quick, plus I am doomed to forget it."



She frowned. "You mean--"



"Whores, Hermione." He looked up now at her and admitted, "I've had naught but whores in my pathetic life. There was never time nor anyone willing, and I'm not the sort of man who would force his attentions where they're not wanted."



She closed her eyes at this and nodded her understanding. "I'm truly sorry."



"So am I."



She slipped her clothing back on in the ensuing silence. Soon she was back in her robes, and she used her wand to levitate the cauldron closer.



He eyed it, then her and nodded, closing his eyes.



"Sopio!"



He began to slide as the spell rendered him senseless, and she gently levitated him onto his back atop his cot.



The removal of so many memories whilst conscious would cause traumatic shock. It was best done as he slept deeply, undisturbed.



She drew in a deep breath and touched her wand to his temple.



"Memoria adultus abdere!"



It was the first, but most comprehensive spell she would be casting in the multi-stage process.



He had to have his memories of magic removed, but Hermione did not intend for most of his life to be lost to him...



* * *



"Severus?"



He shifted, drew in a stuttering breath and opened his eyes, glancing around rapidly, suspiciously.



"What?"



Jane Granger smiled at him reassuringly, and he frowned.



"Easy, dear. You're still recovering." She turned to the door. "Sweetheart! He's waking!"



He looked around, but nothing was familiar. Even his pyjamas were strange. They were soft linen and looked new. He'd used no pyjamas before, sleeping in his skivvies. He was used to damp walls with peeling wallpaper and cracked ceilings and creaky floors. This place was... heavenly. It looked like something out of the fashion magazines he'd sold one summer. His father had made him get a jo--



"My father!"



Mrs. Granger's smile faltered a little, and her expression became sympathetic.



"It's all right, dear. He can't hurt you anymore."



Severus tried to catch his breath, slow his thoughts, but they were muddy. Still, this woman seemed to know something of what was going on.



"He..." His pale skin coloured and he wouldn't look at her as he spoke. "He was hurting me Mum."



"We're so sorry, Severus."



This new voice made him look over and his eyes widened.



A very pretty, curly brown-haired girl had come into the room. Her warm brown eyes were filled with sorrow, and she sat beside him on the bed, displacing the other woman who shook her head and walked out of the room.



She touched his face.



"W-wha--"



"Severus, you need to know something."



"Where am I? What--"



"You're in my parents' home, Severus. We've been caring for you since we found out. It turns out my mother and father are cousins of your mother."



"Me mum."



"Severus, you... you're a lot older than you think you are."



He looked from her to his hands then and back at her.



"I'd like a mirror."



Hermione nodded and reached to the bedside table to hand him one.



He stared at his face for a long time.



"I look like my father," he finally said with disgust, putting the mirror down in his lap.



"I think you look very striking, very handsome."



He glared up at her, then stopped when he noted she was not making fun of him.



"How old am I?"



"Forty-six."



He winced at this, but asked, "What happened to me? How did I get here? Why can't I remember?"



Hermione drew in a breath. "We saw your picture in the papers. The Evening Post had an article about a man they'd found in grave medical condition and were seeking his family. He'd been found with papers, but wasn't employed, and no one had claimed him. The detectives eventually discovered his immediate family was deceased..."



"NO!" Severus wailed, and his eyes closed against the horrible truth he suddenly remembered. The vision of his mother, pale on the floor, blood trickling from her ear...



To his shock, the girl wrapped her arms around him, and he could not resist her compassion. The tears flooded his eyes, and despite his mortification, he began to sob into her shoulder.



"Mum!" he cried out from time to time, wishing, more than anything, that he could see her again.



The girl held him blessedly tight, and when he felt the wetness on his own shoulder, knew she wept with him. Oddly, this comforted him and helped him calm.



Eventually he pulled back from her, mortified, and sniffed wetly, trying to swallow enough of his tears to speak.



"She... she was buried?"



Hermione nodded, glad she had thoroughly researched not only Severus's file, but also his removed memories.



"A long time ago. Your father went to gaol, and he died there. I'm so sorry, Severus."



He shuddered, then drew in a deep breath and said, "I-I'm sorry. Please c-continue with your story."



Hermione took one of his hands in hers and squeezed it comfortingly. "Don't be silly. There's no need to be strong here. This is all something of a shock, and it'll take you time to get your bearings. There's no shame in tears."



He nodded, grateful for her compassion and waited.



"You apparently had a brain aneurysm. Do you know what that is?"



He frowned and shook his head.



"Apparently, one of your blood vessels in your brain got a clot. The blood pooled up behind it, pressure built and the vessel popped. You could have died, but someone found you in the park and got you to hospital. You were there a very long time, unconscious and getting treated. After we saw the newspaper report, my mother thought your face and name looked familiar. She checked in our photo album and the family records and soon realised you were distantly related. She and my father asked about you at the hospital, and no one else came forward. My mother believes very strongly in family, so when no one else offered to help you, she told my father you were coming home with us."



He sniffed. "That's very kind. I... I don't remember anything. I can only remember things from when I was a boy."



"That's to be expected, per the doctors. You may not remember again. But we found out everything we could and got your papers from the Chief Inspector."



She gestured to a worn looking leather wallet atop a battered-looking passport.



He reached for them and looked inside.



A few old business cards were in place, apparently restaurants he frequented and the like. There were eighty pounds in the main compartment and another folded wad of hundred pound notes in another along with a bank receipt. It indicated he had a modest sum, if it was accurate.



There were no photos, and he closed it and opened the passport. His own face, so like his father's, stared back at him. Severus Doyle Prince. He stared back at her, and she lifted a questioning brow.



"Prince? That was my mother's name."



"Well, that's the name your papers have. You must have changed it."



He considered this, looked at his oddly elegant, if older, hands and sighed. It was likely, actually. He hated his father. He sighed again, wishing he could see his mother, but accepting she was long gone now.



"I wish I could remember, but I'm not displeased. My father and I... we didn't get along."



"I'm sorry to hear that," she said honestly, taking his hand in hers again.



He suddenly noted a slight darkness on his skin near the cuff of the pyjamas and pulled free of her to stare. A tattoo!



"Oh, yes," she said as if remembering. "One of the detectives said you had two tattoos. Both are very old, probably from when you were a teenager. They are both of some now defunct street gang. They had one old record of an arrest made when you were about 17, but since you weren't of age, the record was sealed."



He had unbuttoned the cuff and stared at the repulsive looking skull and snake, before making a moue of disgust.



"There were no other arrest reports and your work records were exemplary so I think those are just mementos of your youth now."



"Work records..." he trailed off to ask, "What is the other tattoo?"



"You've some sort of symbol on your chest, not very big. And you've three scars, as well. One looks like you were once bitten by a large dog. One looks like an old burn. And you've a large one on your spine that looks rather like Thor's lightning bolt."



He said nothing, considering this, and she took his hand back in hers. "They don't matter, Severus. What matters is you are getting well and have been given a new lease on life. Whatever mistakes you made in the past don't matter now. You can start fresh."



She squeezed his hand reassuringly, and he stilled, feeling the warmth of her fingers. It was almost as if he knew them, had felt them against his skin before, but that was impossible. He frowned now.



"I'm not married, am I?"



She smiled and shook her head. "No. The Chief Inspector had his detectives do a thorough background search, and it doesn't look as if you ever have been. They found your papers, of course, and they found out you've worked at a chemist and for an herbalist. The herbalist was the last place you were employed. He told the constables you'd been let go with good references, that you had requested leave. Per your passport, not long after that you did some travelling. Apparently, you'd not been long back to the country when the aneurysm struck. You were incredibly lucky not to have it happen whilst you were on holiday."



"I don't remember anything," he fretted slightly. Then he frowned. "Although... the herbalist sounds familiar. I do know a lot about healing plants. I remember an herbology book I had to read one summer... and astronomy. I was very good at both."



She smiled and nodded, gratified. She had very cautiously removed all his Hogwarts memories during his memory removal, but allowed him to maintain his adolescent summers, including any books not pertaining strictly to magic.



"See? It might all come back. And if it doesn't, it doesn't matter, Severus. You're staying with us until you're well and can get back on your feet."



He nodded, concurring, and abruptly yawned. "I'm sorry."



"Don't be. It's been a long day already for you."



"Yes. Although..."



"Yes?"



He flushed a little, to her surprise, and admitted, "I'm rather hungry."



She smiled then, and her beauty almost took him aback.



"Wonderful! That's always a good sign. I'll bring you something."



She let his hand go to hurry out the door, but he stopped her.



"Um..."



She turned back to face him and waited. "Yes?"



He looked suddenly shy, and she smiled, bemused at how sweet the expression was.



"I don't know your name."



"I'm Hermione Jane Granger. But you may call me Hermione, Severus."



That said, she stepped out of the room leaving him to his thoughts.



He studied the pleasant surroundings again and sighed.



Whatever had happened to him before, at least he had wound up in comfortable surroundings with people who cared about him. He had the feeling that this was not something he'd ever experienced before.



The life she'd described sounded lonely to him. An apparently wretched childhood, running around as a street thug, father in prison, sounded far too commonplace. But something had turned him around. He had an exemplary work record she said, and for some reason that filled him with pride. He could just about recall his medicinal plant lore, so he knew he'd be all right soon as regarded employment. Once he was back on his feet, he could repay these kind people and find his own place, make his own way.



But not alone this time.



He considered his circumstances and concurred with Hermione. He'd been very lucky. He might not have all his memories, but he had his life and he had newfound relations, although they were so distant as to be strangers. What if they'd not been there, though? What if they'd not been so kind? He would have wandered forever alone, confused and trying to make his way.



No, he decided then and there that he was going to make his life and find someone to share it with. Someone kind and pretty. Someone like Hermione.



He wondered now if she was taken, but rolled his eyes at the thought. He still felt young, but was 46 already, a middle-aged man. He could scarcely believe it, although, he knew it to be true. As such, she was far too young for him, despite how he already felt about her. She wouldn't look at him that way.



He sighed.



Hermione suddenly stepped back into the room with a tray holding a bowl of soup, some sandwiches and a tea service.



"Oh, that's far too much."



She smiled at him again, and he felt his heart flutter.



"It's not just for you, but for me, too. I'm starving!"



She set the tray on his lap and gave him the spoon, then poured out their tea and picked up a sandwich.



"Go on. Dig in."



He nodded and began to eat. It was very good soup, and he smiled as he watched her eat with relish.



She caught him looking at her and raised a quizzical brow.



"You eat with such gusto. It's good to see."



To his surprise, she blushed. "Bad habit. I usually don't have a lot of time for lunch so I tend to eat in a hurry."



"You work?"



She shook her head. "In between jobs. I recently quit my last job. Too much pressure and too many heartless bastards."



He smiled at her language.



"What did you do?"



"I was a legal aid."



"Then you should find work again fairly quickly."



"Assuming I want to. I haven't had a vacation in many years. I need some time off to decide what to do next."



He nodded. "That sounds like what I apparently tried to do. Too bad I don't remember my travels."



Hermione nodded, then stopped, gesturing with her half-eaten sandwich. "Say - there's a crazy idea."



"What?"



"Once you're better, why don't we vacation together?"



He was taken aback.



"Y-you want to take a vacation with me?"



"Why not?"



He didn't know where to start. "Well, for one thing, we just met. For another, I'm a lot older and... it might look odd."



Hermione rolled her eyes. "I already knew all about you before you woke up. You just need to learn about me. And the first thing you need to learn is that I know my own mind, I'm very stubborn, and that I like older men."



He swallowed. That was certainly more than an indication of interest in him.



A spark of hope flared within him, and he smiled shyly at her.



Perhaps this time I'll truly have a life, not just a living.



"I'm uh, glad to hear that."



Her answering smile back was filled with an infectious cheer and sense of optimism, and he couldn't help but answer it with one of his own - filled with hope and a touch of his already growing feelings for her.



To his astonished joy, her smile grew rather wicked, and when she finished the last bite of her sandwich and leaned in to steal a kiss, he wasn't surprised in the least.



* * *
E N D
* * *



Post A/N: I was inspired by many songs whilst writing this, but none so much as "Breathe Your Name" by Sixpence None The Richer



The amazingly talented _odella_ created art for this piece, which you can find here:
http://www.odospadd.com/odogoddess/pics/_odella_sshg.gif
(Note: art is not worksafe, although no 'bits' are showing)