Deliver Me

Chapter XIX – Origin, Where Will You Go?


“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

“We established long ago, you and I both know the meaning of the word ‘I’. Would you care to add a little more to your sentence?” Severus asked her.

Hermione moved her hands further around his neck as he set her down, she was sure she would have fallen over.

“Miss Granger,” he motioned; she noticed he had set her down and let go of her, but she hadn’t let go of him.

“Sorry, my apologies,” she told him removing her arms and taking a step backwards towards the ladder. She stepped on it, rather than the ground, and almost fell over - again.

He caught her.

“You seem to be extremely skilled in falling,” he mocked lifting her upwards.

“And you seem to be particularly skilled in picking me up,” she added.

Before letting her go, he set her down almost in the middle of the room, away from anything she could trip on.

“Thank you,” she told him in all politeness.

“You’re welcome,” he answered in the same politeness. He waited for her to speak.

“I…Professor…Severus…you…” she couldn’t seem to get her sentences together.

“Yes?” he asked quietly.

“Can I speak with you?” she asked.

“I assumed that was what you were doing,” he said indifferently.

“Yes, I was, wasn’t I?” she felt her head, “May I sit somewhere, please?”

“As you wish,” and he led her to the large chair behind his desk she sat at initially.

She sat down and he took a seat on his desk opposite her.

He noticed that her eyes were transfixed to nowhere. Almost like she was looking at something, but she wasn’t.

“Are you alright?” he asked curiously.

Hermione put her eyes on him then, “Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything, I was waiting for you to speak to me, after all that is why you are here, is it not?” he inquired.

“Yes, it is. My mind must be slow this evening. I did want to speak to you,” Hermione said.

“About what exactly?”

“This morning, last night I mean.”

“What about it?” he asked.

“Did you come back after you left me?”

“No.”

“Oh I see,” and she noticed no change in his emotionless expression, “Well, that was it.” She started to get up.

“Sit,” he ordered, “explain yourself!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I know that isn’t the only reason you came down here. Go on, I know you well enough. What else did you wish to ask?” he was being extremely nice; it was strange.

They were both being overly decorous with each other. Hermione rubbed her eyes in frustration.

She looked up at him as if she didn’t want to speak.

“Spit it out, we’ve been through enough to cut the formalities. What is it?” he asked harshly.

She took a deep breath and finally asked him what she had wanted to know all evening.

“What happened to me out there?” her voice was meek and open. Open for him to answer without worrying she was going to throw him down any hallways or bruise his neck tonight.

“Nothing happened to you,” he answered straight and ceremonial.

“You don’t have to talk to me like your student,” she ushered.

“And how am I supposed to talk to you then? My inamorata, then?”

“A beloved … If you wish too.”

“Really, Hermione, have you forgotten so quickly, then, you are still my student.”

“I know that.”

“Then why, in god’s name, are you down here? Wasn’t it you who said ‘we can’t do this?’”

“Don’t turn this around on me, please.”

He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation.

“Well, do you?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Do you know what happened to me outside?”

“I told you nothing happened. You’re fine, dandy and as bothersome as usual.”

She looked almost satisfied with that answer.

“Follow me,” he ordered and to his disbelief, she did.

He led her out of the study and into his private lab.

It was a room she had never seen before. It was slightly smaller than the classroom, but definitely better equipped. The shelves were lined with bottles, upon bottles of fluids and other things that she couldn’t figure out.

Then there was another cabinet with glass windows and a lock on its door. She figured that was for his dangerous and rare items. Further along, on a third set of shelving, she saw books. There must have been at least a hundred on the entire unit, and to her surprise, not all of them were about potions. Some titles led her to believe they were actually books for, and against, the dark arts – practice and all.

“Sit,” he instructed her towards two chairs, identical to the one in the study, but next to a coffee table.

She sat down and watched him pour something into a clear glass.

He walked over to her.

“Drink it,” he ordered.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Must you ask questions about everything?” he responded in a beaten voice.

“I just want to know; it could be poison,” she countered.

“Would I poison you?” he asked then thought the better of it, “Don’t answer, just drink.”

“You still haven’t told me what it is,” she said before she swallowed.

He waited a few moments before speaking to her again, “And as we see, you are not dead or any worse off, hence it is not poison.”

When he noticed she expected him to say more, “It’s a special dreamless sleep potion I mixed for you. I gave it to you the other night.”

Dreamless sleeping potions were always neon pink, the potion he gave her to drink was almost clear, save a slight green tinge.

“Thank you,” she told him, “umm, Severus?”

“Yes?”

“Which other night?”

“You don’t remember?”

She shook her head and he smiled shortly.

“What? What’s so amusing?” she asked, noticing the lightness in his face.

“Never mind,” he assured her as he took the glass from her hands, his fingers barely touching hers.

He noticed she closed her eyes the moment their fingers touched, and she opened them quickly, hoping he wouldn’t observe it, but he did.

Severus took the glass back to his large worktable and turned back around to face her slowly.

“I think you should leave before they begin to wonder where you are,” he beckoned her out the door.

“But I want to talk to you some more,” she pleaded, “telling me its fine doesn’t do it. You should know that.”

He rolled his eyes, “What more would you like to know?”

“If nothing happened, why were my clothes ripped open? I was out there until Ginny found me. What if she hadn’t?” she asked.

“Death Eaters wanted to check your Jadelisk mark,” he answered short and sharp.

“I don’t understand…why?” she pushed further, “But they didn’t do anything.”

“You biggest fan wasn’t present,” another quick answer.

“Biggest fan?”

“Belle,” the name rolled off his tongue like thick, hot honey. It frightened her; there was a mad look in his eyes when he said the name; passionate.

“Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“There is only one.”

“Then, who was there?”

“Death Eaters. Who they are, is none of your concern,” he explained.

“But, I want to know…”

“You want to know why they didn’t harm you?” he asked.

She nodded.

“They were told not to; it was just a quick check. See the mark and leave, make sure it was still there.”

The look on her face changed to one of fright.

“What is it now?” he prodded.

“You didn’t know before hand did you?” she asked meekly.

“If I knew before hand, would I have left you outside in the rain?” he was being harsh.

“I …”

“Don’t even try an answer that question, you should know I wouldn’t have,” he barked.

He turned his face away from her and rubbed the bridge of his nose in agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered standing up.

He turned his attention to her then and did the most unexpected thing; he dropped to his knees and placed his hands around her waist resting his head against her stomach, “Forgive me,” he whispered and his lips brushed against the soft material of her blouse.

She didn’t know what to do, was she dreaming? Was there actual fear in him? Did he fear something? Severus feared nothing, or did he? Was he on his knees for her? He was. It was pure madness.

Hermione touched his hair and he didn’t move. She slowly slid out of his grip and down to meet him on he floor on her knees.

He didn’t look at her when she was eye level with him. Hermione placed her hands on his face turning him towards her and he finally met her eyes.

“You were so lucky tonight Hermione,” his voice was soft, “if Belle had only been there…”

“I’m here,” she comforted, “I’m fine, you said it yourself. See,” and she placed his hands from her shoulders to her heart, “it is beating.”

He bit his lower lip then and closed his eyes for a moment, before hoisting her off the ground so that she was standing, “You need to get back.”

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He placed her in her bed in the hospital wing and pulled up a chair beside her.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” she lied.

“I want too,” he stated firmly.

Hermione stuck her hand out and he grasped it with his own, intertwining their fingers. He moved closer to her, before finally situating his higher upper body against her chest.

“Severus?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“Thank you.”

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Ginny moved through the halls meaning to go back to her dorm, but never getting there. She wanted to scream and cry and talk to someone all at the same time. She knew this was going to happen. He would betray her. Something was bound to happen, and he would know, or take part and not tell her, and then they would end up right where they started. Fire and ice made cracks, not steam.

Ever since she made the Quidditch team in her fourth year she had found the sport her greatest means of relaxation; that was two years ago.

She walked further down to the Inter-house main locker room.

“Come in,” called a voice after Ginny knocked.

Madame Hooch was sitting at her desk, in an office space at the far end of the room, which always smelled like lilies for some reason. She was a perfectionist and the locker room was always spotless and smelled way too clean.

“What can I do for you, Miss Weasley?” she asked upon seeing Ginny at the door.

“Can I get permission to fly tonight?” Ginny inquired.

“After what happened to Miss Granger, my dear, I do not advise it,” the witch answered.

“But, I want to fly tonight,” she pleaded.

“If you get at least one other person to fly with you, you are more than welcome to. Just make sure you see me before you go outside,” Madame Hooch told her.

“Okay, thanks,” and she left.

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Ginny walked into the Gryffindor common room and found Ron and Harry playing wizard’s chess by the fireplace.

Neville was watching the game, while Dean and Seamus were studying next to them.

“Does anyone want to go flying tonight?” she asked, walking up to the boys.

“No,” Harry and Ron said in unison.

“Neville?” she urged.

“Sorry Gin, I’m next after Harry looses to Ron…again,” he answered.

“Dean? Seamus? It’ll be fun…” she tried to make it sound good.

“Divination test tomorrow,” Seamus said.

“Yea, the old witch’s more loony than usual, we have to figure how Ron’s going to die and have star charts to back it up. He’s been sleeping in class lately, pisses the witch off, we’re trying to make her glad, predicting his death and all,” Dean added flipping through a start guide clearly frustrated.

Ron made a face, as Dean spoke about their reasons for targeting him, “Go on, speak about me like I’m not in the room.”

“Where’s Lavender and Parvati?” she asked ignoring him.

“You could ask Luna,” Neville suggested and Ginny made a face.

“I’m not in the mood to hear about any foretellings the Quibbler has to offer this month,” Ginny imparted.

“Then sorry, Gin, Lav and Parvati are gone; they’re with Padma and some other Ravenclaws in the Great Hall,” Seamus said.

She exhaled in frustration, “I want to go flying, and I can’t go without another person.”

“Ask Malfoy,” Ron told her sarcastically, laughing with Harry.

“Idiots,” she said under her breath and climbed out the portrait hole.

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When Severus knew Hermione was sleeping he left her and made his way back to his room. He had the third stage of pre-Snake’s Breath to brew.

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Ginny went back to the inter-house locker room to find Madame Hooch gone.

“Bollocks,” she thought out loud.

“Mine or yours?” a voice asked her.

She turned around, “What?”

“Mine or yours?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” she was impatient and really didn’t want to talk to him.

“None of your business, Weasel-ette,” he told her sweetly.

“Wanker,” and she walked out.

He followed her down the corridor to the courtyard.

“Is there a reason you’re following me? I thought we weren’t speaking,” she spat at him.

“That wasn’t my choice,” he smirked.

“Your memory is quite convenient,” and she walked further to the edge, before the gardens started.

“Are you going to keep giving me the cold shoulder?” he asked again, trying to get close to her.

“It’s less than what you deserve, and I swear if you don’t leave me alone I’ll scream and hex you into tomorrow!” she shouted.

He pulled her into his arms to kiss her, and just as his lips touched hers, she pushed him away, “I’m not that easy. If you want to get into someone’s pants, Draco, go find Pansy. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to unzip just for you. Or Blaise for that matter, red seems to be your color these days.”

“I think Blaise would rather do your brother,” he smirked.

“Get away from me!” she sneered.

“Do you know what I gave up for you?” he spat at her.

“Like I didn’t sacrifice too! If Ron finds out, or even Harry…” she started.

“It’s always about the wonder boy, isn’t it?” he continued.

“It isn’t and you know it! You made your own choice this morning, so leave me alone. We’re through,” and she turned her back to him.

“I can’t,” he answered.

“You can’t what?” she questioned.

“I can’t stand up and make choices, do you know who my father is…”

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Then when do you want to have it?” he asked her.

She exhaled and turned around to face him, “You made your decision already. Stick by it. If you can’t stand this so much, why are you still here?” she lowered her voice and crossed her arms over her chest, “ Because this relationship comes with decisions!”

“It comes with baggage too! You should know,” he explained.

“Maybe you should clarify,” she told him.

And for the first time in a long time, Draco Malfoy was silent.

“I thought so,” she finally said, “when you decide to grow up, then come and speak to me. Until then, I don’t think I care to ever see, or speak to you again. Good night Mister Malfoy.”

Ginny left Draco standing there and made her way back to the common room; it must have been the first time a girl had ever left Draco Malfoy alone. Victory was hers.

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Hermione awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. But it wasn’t just that, she could have sworn she had another vision, only she didn’t. Wasn’t she supposed to have a dreamless sleep? But she didn’t, or did she? Was it a dream? Or was it a vision?

She was there, Tom was there, Harry was there, and so was Ginny and Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy in a vision with Ginny? That was strange. And they were holding hands.

Did that mean something? Was she continuing to go mad? Or maybe she was just over thinking.

Over thinking.

Over thinking. Could be. But why?

“Have a good rest, my dear?” Madame Pomfrey asked.

“Where is Severus?” Hermione asked.

“Professor Snape, is teaching classes this morning; as he is suppose too,” the old lady remarked.

“Yes, Professor Snape,” Hermione acknowledged her mistake of calling him by his first name.

“Your breakfast should be up shortly by Susu, and then, I suppose you should see Professor McGonagall. She requested that you come see her after you awaken. Eat and after that you are free to leave,” said Madame Pomfrey.


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“Hello, Hermione. How are you feeling this morning?” Professor McGonagall asked when Hermione entered her office, “Tea?”

“Yes, please,” and she sat down.

“One lump, or two?” the Transfiguration professor asked.

“None, thanks,” Hermione answered.

“Severus is rubbing off on you I see,” McGonagall added.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“And how are you feeling this morning?” the older witch inquired.

“I’m fine, thanks. I really didn’t see why I had to stay in the hospital overnight,” Hermione explained.

“Just to be on the safe side,” McGonagall reminded her.

“I suppose so,” Hermione commented.

“Hermione, I asked to see you this morning, because I think it’s time we had a little chat,” she continued.

“About what, professor?” Hermione asked.

“About relationships, my dear. More specifically, your relationship with Professor Snape,” McGonagall told her.

Oh, just great, Hermione thought to herself, “What about us?” she asked out loud.

“Are you an ‘us’, then?” McGonagall questioned.

“No, I mean, what about our relationship?” Hermione wondered.

“Hermione, how old are you?” she asked.

“I’m seventeen, professor,” Hermione answered.

“And do you know how old Severus is?” McGonagall prodded.

“Thirty-five?” Hermione continued.

“Thirty-seven to be precise,” the transfiguration professor said, “and, Hermione, what is the difference between thirty-seven and seventeen?”

“Twenty, miss,” Hermione responded.

“Very good. Now tell me, what do you think was the purpose of our little number exercise?” she asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Hermione told her in all honesty.

“Well, then, I’ll tell you. Be careful,” McGonagall put into plain words.

“Be careful, how exactly?” Hermione inquired.

“What I am about to say to you does not leave this room. Do we understand each other?” she ruled, before continuing, “When you were being born, Severus Snape was already a Death Eater alongside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Before that, in his years here, he excelled in all classes, and was one of the top students in Slytherin. I was his Transfiguration professor, actually.”

McGonagall watched Hermione’s facial expressions and she continued with her story.

“Severus is a brilliant and bitter man,” she went on, “he is no longer a boy, and has not been one for quite some time. Since the time of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s first rise to power, Severus has since, changed his ways. But Hermione, mark my words carefully, he is a haunted, dark soul. He has seen things you cannot even begin to imagine, and he has done them, too.”

“I understand,” Hermione told her.

“Do you now?” the older witch replied, “When Severus was here at school, there was a girl. A girl who was most similar to him; they got along infamously. They were, and still probably are, each other’s undoing because they are so similar.”

“Who was she?” Hermione asked.

“We’ll get to that,” McGonagall told her, “this girl, this woman, was very unique, shall we say. She was independent, strong-willed and some often called her the ‘snake princess’.”

“How come we’ve never heard of her?” Hermione queried.

“Oh, I think you have, but you know her by her given name,” McGonagall explained, “Bellatrix Lestrange. Does that sound familiar?

Hermione nodded.

“Severus fears not pain, nor does he fear death, or he would not have leagued with the Dark Lord, but there are two things that unnerve him; Bellatrix and affection, shall we call it ‘love,’ for argument’s sake.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as McGonagall’s story continued.

“Bellatrix Black did not marry Rudolphus Lestrange directly out of Hogwarts; they were married almost five years after, actually; eight years after the Death Eaters came into power. Did you know, Hermione, that Bellatrix was engaged to another man before Rudolphus’ time?”

Hermione shook her head and leaned in closer, “The Dark Lord chose his companions when they were fifteen? Was she really engaged to someone else?”

“Yes,” McGonagall told her, “and yes. You do know, that the Dark Lord still believes Severus is one of his followers; you learned that years ago, so I will not bore you with trifle details. However, there is one interesting item I do believe you should be aware of.”

“What is that?” Hermione asked.

“Bellatrix Black was never supposed to marry Rudolphus Lestrange. In fact, after graduation, Bellatrix Black was supposed to indeed marry Severus Snape.”

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Ginny was sitting in the Library studying alone in a corner when Draco showed up and sat down opposite her.

“What are you doing here,” she whispered angrily to him.

“Studying; I thought you weren’t speaking to me?” he asked.

“I’m not,” she answered turning her face back to her book.

“Ever heard of a Morbis, Ginerva?” Draco asked.

That gained her attention.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Yes.”

“Can you recall seeing one?” he continued.

“Of course I have, you were there. Wait, why?” she asked.

“Would you like to see another one?” he inquired.

Ginny stood up with horror written on her face.

“Sit down,” he ordered her.

She was frozen in her position. A morbis should have been an unforgivable. It was certainly worthy of being one.

He stood up, “Would you like to see another one?” he whispered in her ears.

All she could do was shake her head.

“Good, now maybe you’ll listen to me for a change,” he added; she could feel his breath on her face as he spoke, and she felt his lips graze her cheek, before he continued to speak.

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Hermione couldn’t believe her ears and she couldn’t hide the shock from her face either.

“Not too many people are aware of that fact,” Professor McGonagall added.

“Professor, why is she so unnerving to him?” Hermione asked.

“You have met Bellatrix, and yet, you still ask that question?” McGonagall stated.

Hermione nodded.

“When Severus turned twenty-one years old, he switched sides. That was seven years after being a full Death Eater; six years after being Bellatrix’s other half and that was the day after a very particular event took place.”

“Did something awful happen?” Hermione asked.

“The Dark Lord accidentally killed his mother.”

“You can’t accidentally kill someone, just like that,” Hermione interjected.

“Can you not?” questioned the old lady.

“Well what happened?” Hermione pushed.

“I think we need more tea,” and McGonagall poured more into each of their cups, “It was a sharp blade of reality that hit Severus that day, what he didn’t fear, and care about, struck down, the one person he loved more than his own life, or anything else for that matter.”

“How did she die?” Hermione asked.

“No one actually knows; he does not speak of it. She was the one thing in his life he loved, loved truly and purely. He believes it was his fault she died.”

“But surely, he wasn’t there?”

“From what I understand, he came home after an escapade, found her in a pool of her own blood, in the middle of the drawing room, in front of the fire place, with the dark mark hovering above her head.”

“That’s awful,” Hermione whispered, “is that all that is known about her death? Surely it could not have been an accident?”

“No one knows. Except a few, who do not and have not ever spoken about it.”

“Who are they?”

“The Dark Lord, Severus, of course, as well as, Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Black, Alistair McNair, James Potter and Rabastan Lestrange.”

“Wow.”

“Hardly the term I would use to describe it.”

“Harry’s father?”

“He has only one.”

“But what does this have to do with Bellatrix?”

“Severus believed that if hadn’t joined the Dark Lord, his mother wouldn’t have died. So he broke off all ties with Bellatrix, who married Rudolphus out of spite, and went mad with power shortly after that.”

“Mad is an understatement,” Hermione added under her breath.

“But, Bellatrix still adores Severus, married or not, they were each other. They know each other inside out, and their minds think so much alike, it’s frightening.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I’m coming to that.”

“Wait, how was he able to stay in the inner circle and break off his engagement to Bellatrix?” Hermione prodded.

“He was close to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and was granted the convenience of doing such a thing.”

“I still don’t follow,” Hermione admitted.

“Severus may not show it very much, probably because he forced himself to stop having affection, but he feels something for you. Knowing what you have become makes you vulnerable to the Dark Lord, as well as, that of Bellatrix.”

“Okay?”

“Severus is worried because he knows what she is capable of. What she can do to you, he has done in the past, they have done in the past, together, and had he not changed sides, he would probably do them with her.”

“What kind of things?”

“Things we do not speak of. Unforgivables, with added curses, like no other.”

“Why would she do something like that?”

“Surely you jest in asking that question?” McGonagall asked.

Hermione shook her head.

“Because you’re important to him. And he would rather have you fall at his own hand, than hers. It’s his way of saving you.”

“But I don’t need saving,” Hermione protested.

“Oh, my dear, but you do,” McGonagall told her.

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“Mail’s here, Harry,” Ron called entering the boy’s bedroom.

“Just leave it on the bed side table,” Harry answered digging through his trunk for something.

“What are you looking for?” Ron asked.

“Just a book,” Harry answered.

“Which one?”

“Uh, the muggle one I have on Scotland.”

“Why are you looking for that old thing?”

“It has some stuff in it on plants, Neville wants it.”

“Oh,” Ron said flopping down onto his own bed, parallel to Harry’s.

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Hermione walked out of Professor McGonagall’s office bewildered, sick to her stomach, and worried.

It was almost lunchtime, and she had a Care of Magical Creatures class, and then she was off for a couple hours before her thesis class, which she was actually dreading. Knowing what he did, how could she face him?

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Ginny ran from the library to the Astronomy Tower.

“Password?” the portrait on the wall asked.

“Shit, I don’t remember the new one,” she cursed aloud.

“That is not it, you may not enter,” it answered.

“Pack Dec … ugh…. Pec Decoras… no Pax…Pax Decorum! Pax Decorum!” she shouted, and the portrait hole opened.

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Harry flopped down on his bed, “Where did I put that bloody book?”

“Beats me,” Ron answered, “Oy, check your mail. Grapevine has it, you got an Auror letter.”

“Toss ‘em over here,” Harry called out.

“Aren’t you lazy this evening,” Ron joked, reaching to Harry’s nightstand and tossing a couple envelops to Harry, who was lying at the foot of his bed.

Boom! The door swung open.

“What’s the matter with you!” Ron shrieked at Ginny who bolted towards Harry.

She tackled the envelops away from him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harry shouted.

“Give them to me!”

“Have you gone mad?” Ron yelled pulling her off Harry.

“You can’t open them! Don’t open them!” she screamed.

Ron had his arms around her waist; they were piled messily of Harry’s bed.

“Why the hell not?” Harry barked at her.

*** A/N: Due to the fact that J.K Rowling (May 2004) confirmed the fact that Ginny’s name in canon isn’t “Virginia”, but rather, “Ginerva”, I changed it in my story too. Sorry for the sudden change, if you didn’t catch it. ***