The Hepatic Hex

Finally, it is here.

This chapter is the first of two that are dedicated to Kiri for her astute obsevation in identifying a potentially embarressing situation that I could have worked myself into. This chapter begins the rescue of my storyline integrity and should be completely remedied by the end of the next chapter-- that is the plan any way. And no, before you ask I am not going to be sharing what the issue she pointed out to me was--It is a secret... SHHH!

Now seeing as though I got one of my assignments done today and considering the Brisbane Lions won ththirthird premiership in a row yeaterday (that is AFL if any of you don\'t know) you are currently fortunate enough to be on the recieving end of one uncharacteristically very happy fan fic author. Because of this I may just be able to get the next chapter up tomorrow--having said that, I am known notoriously for my violent mood swings, so don\'t count on it until it actually happens.

Thanks again and I hope you enjoy the latest installment.

Shemhamforash xxx
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Chapter 18

Hermione left the headmaster’s office shortly after Snape and headed straight for owlry to send off a letter to Artemis detailing the conversation she and Snape had shared with Dumbledore. Hermione outlined the cure and its implications and the possibility of Artemis being installed as Queen of the Wizarding world. Hermione added in jest, to lighten the tone of the correspondence that she expected to be made head royal advisor upon Artemis’ coronation.

At a loss to what to do next as she watched the owl fly off into the afternoon sun, Hermione began a slow walk back down to the dungeons, deciding that the loud frivolity of the Gryffindor common room was something she could do without. She was too worried about Snape returning safely to be concerned with answering the barrage of questions she knew Harry and Ron would assault her with about the nature of her work with Snape. Neither was she ready to disclose the more intimate details of their ‘working’ relationship to her two friends. So instead, Hermione trudged along the corridors, keeping to the shadows as much as she could to avoid being seen by anyone brave enough to venture into Snape’s dungeon realm.

Hermione was tired though. ‘No scrap that’ she thought to herself. She was absolutely buggered from the cumulative strain and effect of working non stop for the past week or so, sleeping little, analyzing continually her feelings for Snape and of course the magic destroying liver curse. What Hermione really wanted she realized as she reached Snape’s chamber door, was sleep. Returning to her private room though was an almost non-stop climb up to the top of Gryffindor tower, something that she physically wasn’t capable of right now. So, giving the password, she entered Snape’s sitting room and slumped into one of the overstuffed leather armchairs next to the fireplace.

Hermione wriggled in the seat trying to get comfortable for her possible long wait for Snape to return. The chair wasn’t uncomfortable, but because of her utter exhaustion, her body protested painfully her still largely upright posture. Groaning in frustration, Hermione stood and wearily began to pace the room. Heading to Snape’s office to find herself a book to occupy her time with, she noticed upon entering that one of the large black oak doors leading to his private rooms was slightly ajar. Curious as to what lay behind she walked over and hesitantly pushed the door open.

‘This is his bedroom?’ Hermione thought dumbfounded as she scanned the expansive space, marveling at its luxurious yet simplistic décor. Looking above her head she noticed the vaulted ceiling covered in alternating green, silver and black sails billowing from the rafters, crossing the room. There was a fireplace of black granite which stood out regally against the gray stone walls of the castle and stood at least 8 feet tall from ground to mantle, which Hermione noticed was completely unadorned by the usual paraphernalia and personal keepsakes most people kept on them.

The most impressive feature of the room though was the four-poster, again black oak, king-sized bed that stood proudly on a raised platform in the center of the room. The canopy of bed bed was curtained in black velvet lined with silver silk and the 2-foot thick mattress was richly dressed in black satin sheets and a thick forest green comforter. Almost apprehensively, Hermione approached the bed and tested the mattress with her hands. It gave way easily under the little weight she applied and almost she almost cried and cursed the God’s, believing that even this inanimate object was now mocking the exhaustion she was enslaved to.

Gingerly, Hermione sat down placing her head in her hands, trying to clear her head. No. It was no good. She needed sleep, and she was sitting on the most comfortable bed she had ever come across.

‘Surely he wouldn’t mind’ Hermione thought to herself.

‘But it is such a presumptive invasion of his privacy ‘Mione.’

‘Severus would not want you to lie on the bloody floor when there is a bed available. He would call you a silly-little-girl for not showing the initiative to sleep inh a h a welcoming bed.’

‘It is not just A bed ‘Mione. Its HIS bed’

Hermoine groaned again before telling the battling consciences in her head to take the argument somewhere else, pulled off her shoes, lay down and fell into unconsciousness.

Hermione awoke a short time later in unfamiliar and foreboding surroundings. Rising to her feet, she gasped in horror as she found herself surrounded by a vast expanse of rotting corpses, frozen stiff in the winter snow covering the ground. The scent of the bodies on the winter winds made her retch but something else carried on the frozen gale made her stop her hesitant attempts to find a pathway around the carnage that surrounded her, preventing her from running away.

Screaming.

Not just frantic, fear laden screaming, although there was that too, but wailing. Desperate, depressive and mournful wailing was circling her, assaulting her from every angle. Hermione looked around frantically but failed to locate the source.

‘Where is it coming from?’ she thought as the sound started to grow in intensity and volume so slowly it was almost imperceptible. She opened her mouth to call out, hoping that someone would hear her and help. She wanted to get away from wherever she was…Now! Her voice though never even made it to her own ears.

The wailing by now had become a painful screeching, like a thousand banshee’s cursing the moon, and she raised her hands to her ears to try to block out the noise- but this action only seemed to amplify the noise. Hermione tried again to yell into the vast white landscape, pleading for the voices to stop. They didn’t. Again the volume increased, tormenting her more. She closed her eyes, from which by now tears had begun to fall rapidly, but it seemed with each one that fell, the wails would become louder and more insistent, reaching a level now that deafened her to any other sound.

Hermioank ank to her knees under the pressure of the assault, and unexpectedly, the voices began to make a nightmarish sense. Hundreds of voices began to chant together:

“It’s all your fault Hermione. It’s all your fault Hermione, It’s all your fault Hermione.”

Over and over again, higher and higher the mantra continued.

“It’s your fault Hermione. It’s all your fault Hermione, It’s all your fault Hermione.”

Hermione screamed involuntarily, this time her voice being afiedfied across the winter squall and cutting through the incessant wailing.

“WHAT? WHAT?” She sobbed uncontrollably. “What did I do?”

Hermione doubled up in pain as the voices reached their highest level and answered.

“The cure, Hermione… The war… It’s all your fault Hermione, It’s all your fault…”

“What do you mean?” Hermione screamed in anguish. “Please, tell me…” she whispered before her body was overcome with the sadness and pain that swirled in the air and started to permeate through her skin and eat away at her from the inside.

‘Please stop’ She pleaded silently as violent sobbing took over her body. Over and over again she pleaded for it to all stop when, suddenly a crack of thunder echoed through the torment and her world fell eerily silent. Cautiously, Hermione opened her eyes and scanned the landscape. All around she noticed dark figures circling her beyond the piles of corpses. The figures advanced quickly through the driving sleet and after a short time Hermione was able to discern the unmistakable robes of Death Eaters. The same moment she made this realization, she also noticed a slow squirming movement coming from the piles of bodies, once still ad hed her. Staring wide eyed at both the approaching Death Eaters and the now gracefully moving corpses coming towards her, Hermione noticed the temperature drop dramatically and the snowy landscape turning so black, all she could see was the once seemingly dead bodies groping at her.

“Nooo!” Hermione screamed as she tried to disentangle herself from the arms circling her to reach her wand. Not being able to reach it, she finally panicked at her situation and readied herself to strike out at the figure in front of her until their face lit up dramatically from a red light radiating from the ground beneath them. The features of the figure were familiar. Strong, angular and framed in a limp curtain of raven colored hair, the figures eyelids closed.

“SEVERUS!” Hermione cried out trying desperately to reach him, but her hands waved straight through the enigma.

“Severus please!” She cried frantically again and slowly as if sensing her for the first time, Snape opened his eyes causing Hermione to scream and sob hysterically. Hermione longed to see the beautiful black eyes that she had always found peace within to reassure her that everything was all right. Instead when Snape opened his eyelids two red jelly like orbs fell from his sockets, hanging by a tendon so they rested against his more hollow than usual cheeks.

Snape reached for her and gently began to caress her porcelain like skin before roughly grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently.

“It is your fault Hermione.” Snape hissed at her. She winced at the decay on his breath and the pain of the vice like grip her had her in.

“Hermione, did you hear me?” Snape spat at her still shaking her forcefully.

“Hermione?…” Snape bellowed at her for the last time before she lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

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