Eternal Mistakes On The Spotless Soul

A/N:I do apologize for the dreadful delay in the updates...but here it is! Please be sure to leave a review at the end! Feedback is helpful!


“Is this really necessary, Albus?” Pomona Sprout asked. She stood wrapped in her night robe in the middle of the corridor. The former Headmaster had woken her a few moments ago insisting that it was urgent and that there was no time to change into something more suitable. His instructions were simple, but that did not make them any less complicated. She was to go directly to Hogsmeade, to The Hogshead Tavern, and Aberforth would be waiting for her there.

“Yes, and the sooner the better,” he said from his portrait.

With a huff, Pomona Sprout began walking down the corridor, muttering to herself.

* * * * * *

Hermione was unable to find rest. It was awkward and that was putting it politely. To have Severus Snape pressed naked against her backside while they were fighting for their lives against the cold in the fall-out shelter of a cabin that was buried beneath layers of snow in the mountains of eastern Russia was hardly the ideal situation. Surely death would have been a more settling alternative.

Severus should have found her thoughts more disturbing as he gently probed her mind, having little else to do while pressed beside the girl trying to keep warm. But sifting around in the thoughts of Hermione Granger was more stimulating than counting the wire rings on the barrels, or trying to recite lists of ingredients that he would need for the up and coming school semester. He had yet to stumble upon what he had hoped he would cross in her mind, and that was her theory on the Pulmerian Root.

He was loathe to admit that she was most likely onto something, but the truth was that Pulmerian Root, as theorized in her journal, might just be the missing link the cure needed. Personally he’d always dismissed it as far too unstable for working conditions, but based on the tiny bits of notes he’d read in the journal, he was certain she was onto something.

“If you’re going to think it over, forget it,” she said.

Severus was surprised to hear her voice. He’d threatened her into silence sometime ago, but how long ago that had been, he wasn’t sure. Had she too been probing his thoughts? When had the know-it-all git Granger become proficient in silent occlumency? Though the more he thought about it, the more he realized he knew nothing of Hermione Granger other than what was published in the potions journals and the daily periodicals.

“You’ve tested this theory?” he asked.

Hermione was silent. Her intention had not been to bait him, but she also hadn’t expected to find him floating idly in her mind. She hadn’t tested the theory, and she knew that he knew that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tracked her down in the only known location where the root grew. It took her a moment to twist about in the sheets until she was on her opposite side, chest now pressed against his, her eyes searching for his in the dimming darkness. “No.” she said. “I have not.”

“Then why dismiss it?”

“Because it won’t work.” She stated. It was a foolish statement, but with all of her other attempts having failed miserably, she saw little hope at the end of the tunnel. It was all she had lived for as of late, making a breakthrough in her research for the cure. But now everything seemed worthless, hopeless, and bleak. “It just won’t,” she added before he had a chance to say anything further.

The light from the burning oil bowl had all but dwindled away. It wasn’t a clock but it gave Severus the idea that quite some time had passed since they’d first found themselves trapped in the fall-out shelter. And although it wasn’t much for heat once the oil burned out the temperature was going to drop. This was not how he intended to die. But having no wand and his magic being dwindled by the severe weather, the outcome of the situation was not looking pleasant. Having precious little left to live for, he found his thoughts not far from that of hers.

“We’re going to die like this.” She said.

“If you don’t mind, he said. Severus narrowed his eyes at her, but doubted that she could see his face, despite being right next to him. “Keep yourself out of my thoughts.”

“I was only probing your mind because I caught you probing mine.” She said.

He held his tongue. There was no point in arguing with her. However fortunate or unfortunate that is was; she was right. In a while the oil would burn out and they would freeze to death, just as the skeletons in the corner had before them. And even if they managed to hold out against the cold for a while, eventually starvation would get them.

Waiting for death, it was a game he’d grown all to accustomed with during his years of service under the Dark Lord. But then it was a matter of which mission would kill him, or would his timely fate come at the hands of his dark master. This was different. Waiting in silence, in darkness, in the cold with a woman that he loathed pressed against him to prolong the inevitable; this was a far worse torturous fate than he ever could have imagined.

Severus hadn’t noticed her palm against his chest, but brought his attention to it when she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Don’t start this nonsense…” he began.

“No, I really am, I never meant—”

“Hermione, don’t.” he spat. Severus grabbed her hand and pulled it from his chest. Her fingers closed around his and she gripped his hand tightly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to die in this freezer and damnnit if I’ll go with this mess muddled on my conscience.” She cried. “I never meant for you to find out, I certainly didn’t want to interrupt your wedding, and I never meant for what happened to Nalina and your child…” she sniffled. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined enough lives, and I never meant to ruin yours.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat. “I’m not interested in your absolutions.”

Hermione bit her tongue. When had her life gone so terribly off track? Tears leaked from her face, dripping down his chest.

“Granger, if you don’t stop you’re crying, so help me—”

“Then get away from me!” she cried. “Being huddled together like this is only buying us time!”

The truth of her words stung his chest. But he did not pull away from her. Severus threw his arm tightly around her back. “You are acting foolish,” he grumbled. Their bodies were pressed as tightly together as was physically possible. “And I will not embrace darkness as my bride any sooner than is necessary.” He added.

Her body was quaking against him, but she didn’t have the strength to push him away. “I’m frightened,” she whimpered.

“Of what? You’re the one that’s inviting death to your doorstep,” he hissed.

“I didn’t want this! I didn’t want any of this!” she sobbed. “I never meant to have any of this fall on your head— not the baby— not the wedding—”

“Hermione, I insist you desist this instant—”

“—I’ve ruined so many lives!” she sobbed. Her body shook uncontrollably as her tears fell against him. “My own life in shambles and I had the nerve to bring another unfit life into this wretched existence…and Remus, what I’ve done to him because I thought I could—”

“Get a grip, Granger!” he bellowed. But his thunderous words were lost to her cries.

She no longer made coherent sense, words and sobs just tumbling from her lips. “—they trusted me— and I couldn’t help them— and he’ll grow up hating a mother he never— but I didn’t deserve him— they’re lost and it’s all my—”

Both hands gripped her head firmly and in one forceful movement, Severus pressed his lips to hers. Her whimpering did not quell against him until she felt his tongue in her mouth. She trembled, but let her voice still. Hermione’s eyes fell closed, not that there had been much to see in the darkness. Her fingers curled against his shoulder, cupping and clinging, pulling him closer to her.

Severus broke the kiss. He half expected a fresh round of sobs to burst forth from the girl, but silence settled between them. His chest was rising and falling against hers, and though their lips no longer touched, her nose was tilted slightly against his. A moment passed, or perhaps an hour, there was no way of telling. Hermione pressed her lips to his cheek, and then trailed them slowly across his skin until they covered his mouth.

He remained still as her lips moved against his. Eyes were closed and for a moment he allowed himself to drift away. And for a moment he was lying on a beach— the heat was blazing. Sweet coconut oil wafted on a breeze, but it wasn’t a breeze, he was hot, sticky and she was atop him, writhing. His eyes flew open, met once more with the darkness, and the lips of Hermione Granger still kissing him.

Only he was returning her kiss. Severus pulled back, panting, squinting. She was still Hermione Granger, as best as he could see. Her whimper was lost as he covered her lips with his. It was a whir of confusion, but he felt his hands on her skin, touching her, stroking her, encouraging her. Lips on lips, and tongues touching one another; he’d hardly felt her hands slithering between them. But no sooner had her fingers curled around his member, did he pull back from her. “No,” he muttered.

But Hermione either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. With one hand on his shoulder and the other slowly stroking his erection, she shifted onto her back and pulled him down over top of her. Severus touched her face, holding himself up on one arm. Her breasts were heaving beneath him, and his erection was growing in her hand. He could no longer feel the chill, and yet the blankets he’d found in the crates had slipped off of him. Gentle fingers reached up and brushed his hair from his face and had it been just a bit lighter, he might have seen the trembling girl beneath him smile.

“Wait…” she whispered, touching his cheek. Hermione sat up as best she could beneath the tent he had created for them. Her arms wrapped around his back, drawing him closer. She let her lips fall against his collarbone as she fell back to the ground with him on top of her.

He wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but it happened. He’d slipped inside of her, the warmth and tight heat making him groan. Hermione whimpered and thrust her hips up against him. Lips met lips once more, and hands were everywhere; his stroking her side, touching her skin and hers tangling into his hair. It was not the furious crazed fuck that they had experienced after they’d come in from the snow. Nor was it the rapid drunken fuck from that night in the club. It was slow, but confusing; her nipples straining against his chest as he pulled out of her and pushed himself in again. There was no sense to it, but he could hardly find the logic in stopping. Her body was fitted to his as he continued to push into her, lips melding over each other as if breaking their kiss would somehow kill them both.

A sheen of sweat was glistening on his back as Hermione dragged her nails over his skin, just light enough to tease him with the sensation. She was delirious; her body practically on fire but all she could think about was the man who was pulsing between her legs. His tongue was like molten velvet against hers, and the heat radiating from her core was threatening to melt her. If she’d felt cold before it was a distant memory.

He was panting, pushing into her faster, but rhythmically, and he could feel her tightening around him. Severus growled into her mouth, finally breaking their kiss, pulling back and biting his own lip. Hermione convulsed beneath him, feeling tingly and hot, an orgasm ripping through her. Severus shuddered and felt his release, his organ pulsing, his breath shallow. There was no strength to keep him from collapsing atop the girl, his head lulling to one side, chin against her shoulder. His lips were at her ear, moving against it but saying nothing.

It took her a moment to realize that he too had finished. Her arms were flung lazily over his back and she was still panting, trying to catch her breath. But other than his heavy breathing and hers, the room was silent. Hermione closed her eyes. After another long silence, which could have been moments or hours, she realized two things. The first being that he was still atop her, buried inside of her, and the second was that the fire in the oil basin had burned out. It was completely dark. “Severus,” she asked, if a bit timid.

His eyes were wide open, but saw nothing. It was dark. The oil had burned out and that could only mean one thing. It would come soon, but then at least it would be over. Severus lifted his head, blinking his eyes though it did no good. He had just barely heard her say his name. “What.” He said.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we.” She said.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and a statement of fact at that. His body was stiff, and weighted with the languid feeling of post-coital exhaustion. “Yes,” he said. There was no denying it. What little energy they would have retained had been spent in their physical actions. The heat from the oil was gone. And although they couldn’t feel the chill at the moment, it would soon set in and that would be the end.

She shifted and wiggled beneath him, sliding out from under him until she was on her side, pressing her back against his chest. Her arm reached around and found his arm, pulling his appendage over her waist. Hermione couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed, but it didn’t seem to matter as all she saw was darkness. Thoughts asunder, she let her mind wander into the darkness.

* * * * * *

“This sounds ridiculous,” Pomona Sprout said. Her arms were crossed over her chest, glaring at the Portrait of Albus Dumbledore and his living brother, Aberforth. “How on earth did you even come up with such a notion?”

The bright eyes of Albus Dumbledore sparkled from his portrait frame. “In a dream, my dear, but it all seems to make perfect sense.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Have you tested this theory that came to you in a dream?” she asked.

“We’re about to, my dear.” Said Albus.

Aberforth stood behind the bar looking serious as ever. “Why do you have to do this in my bar?” he grumbled.

“Now, Pomona,” Albus said, ignoring his brother. “If you’ll just take my hand…” he said, and held his hand outstretched in her direction. His arm, however, did not reach out of the portrait as she had expected. “Go on, don’t be afraid…”

Over the years, Pomona Sprout had learned that hearing those words meant that she should indeed be afraid, but without hesitation, she reached her hand forward. As her fingers touched the portrait she shrieked and yanked her hand back. “Albus!” she cried. His hand had felt as real as her very own hand. “But how did you—”

“Have you ever tickled the pear in the bowl of fruit to get into the Hogwarts kitchen?” he asked with a smile.

She responded with a slow nod.

“Have you ever tried to pull that pear out of its portrait?”

“No. But why would I want to do that?”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore smiled, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Without having a need to extract it from its picture frame, no one had ever bothered. Now, if you’ll take my hand again, please.” Again the elder wizard extended his hand to the Professor of Herbology.

This time when she touched the hand in the portrait, she began to feel dizzy. Her fingers were gripped by the very fleshy hand of Albus Dumbledore and all at once she had the sensation as if she were being pulled through into a pensieve. A moment later she found herself staring into The Hogshead as if she were looking through a tiny window. “Am I—”

“Yes you are,” Dumbledore smiled. “Now, if you’ll just carefully follow me…” he again extended his hand to her. “Crossing through a few of these portraits is going to be tricky…”

In a few moments time, Pomona Sprout had traversed through several portraits and found herself staring at the Headmaster’s Office of Hogwarts, but again through a tiny window.

“Good gracious,” cried Minerva McGonagall. “Pomona, is that you?” she asked, gazing at the portrait that should have been of Albus Dumbledore. “Albus!” she cried, watching the older wizard squeeze into the frame that was obviously only meant for one. “How did she— how did you— oh dear,” she sighed.

“Minerva, if you will assist us for just a moment,” Albus said. He explained to the Headmistress of Hogwarts about his idea of pulling one living person from one place to another through the portraits, and although at first she was reluctant, she agreed to extend her hand to the woman in the portrait.

With a heavy tug and tightly gripped hands, Minerva McGonagall pulled Pomona Sprout out of the Headmaster’s portrait and into her office. “Oh my goodness!” Both women were astounded.

“And there you have it, ladies.” Albus smiled. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some portraits in the mountains of Eastern Russia that need searching…” he said and then disappeared out of his portrait frame.


* * * * * *

Ginny Weasley sat on the hotel bed, her eyes puffy and red. Draco Malfoy stood glaring at the girl. “How could you?” he hissed.

Lucius was leaning casually against the liquor cabinet, a glass of brandy in his hand and a smirk on his face. “Did you really think you could trust her, Draco, did you, hmm?” he tilted his glass to his lips and took a swallow.

“Stay out of this,” the younger Malfoy hissed at his father.

“Ginny!” Draco cried her name. But still she did not look up. Her gaze could not meet his eyes. “We were in this together— I thought you— I thought—”

“Oh do shut it, Draco,” Lucius growled. “Did you honestly think she could love you? Hmm?” he growled. “Were you honestly stupid enough to think that this filthy little mudblood sympathizer had feelings for you?”

“I said stay out of this!” he rounded on his father and raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Lucius shouted. He crossed the room as his son’s wand was blasted from his hand. “You will learn your place,” he growled.

“Birthed out of wedlock,” Ginny said. She glared from her place on the bed up at the eldest Malfoy. She had been a fool to trust him. “Oh!” she cried, not having a chance to protect her cheek from the hard-swinging hand of Lucius Malfoy. “Bastard.”

“Watch your tongue, Weasley, or you’ll have more than just a stinging cheek.” He sneered.

Draco stood idly by, unable to make a stand against his father. Whether he liked it or not, Lucius was in charge. And if Lucius was going to smack her around, then what did it matter? Apparently she had only been using him to settle some score with her mother and his father anyhow. A frown crossed his lips as he once more tried to catch the eye of the girl he’d invested so much time and feeling into, but again she denied him and turned her e Draco stood idly by, unable to make a stand against his father. Whether he liked it or not, Lucius was in charge. And if Lucius was going to smack her around, then what did it matter? Apparently she had only been using him to settle some score with her mother and his father anyhow. A frown crossed his lips as he once more tried to catch the eye of the girl he’d invested so much time and feeling into, but again she denied him and turned her eyes to the floor.

Lucius paced beside the bed and stopped abruptly, grabbing Ginny by her hair. The young girl yelped, trying her best to twist away. “Tell him, Ginevra…tell him what a tramp you are…” he hissed.

Draco’s face paled. He hadn’t wanted to believe his father’s accusations, but why else would his lover have been in his father’s study in the first place? He’d tried so hard to deny it, and even gone so far as to ignore it when she’s first brought it to his attention. The envelope she’d found and the plan she laid out; the plan that resulted in the death of his half sister and half-niece to be. He hadn’t given it so much as a second thought when she’d said she’d found it in his father’s study, but now he feared the truth was coming round to bite him hard in the arse.

“Tell him…” he hissed, shaking Ginny once more.

Ginny remained silent, she refused to look at Draco and refused to acknowledge Lucius.

“Very well…” drawing his wand tip he thrust it forward to the girl’s head.

“No!” cried Draco, but then cupped his hand over his mouth.

Lucius’s wand tip pressed hard against the girl’s temple and drew forth a silvery stream.

Ginny squirmed, and whimpered as if the extraction of the memory were painful. He was stealing it against her will, but there was nothing she could do. More tears sprung to her eyes, though she was certain she had cried her tear ducts dry.

“Now, we’ll just show my son how thick he really can be at times…” he growled and threw Ginny back down to the bed.

* * * * * *

There was a warm and fuzzy feeling wrapped around Harry Potter as he woke with sleep still in his eyes. He hadn’t meant to doze off quite so quickly, but after he and Lenore had had another round of what was meant to be talking but turned out to be anything but, his body just couldn’t take it anymore. Rolling over in the bed, his smile quickly faded as he found it to be empty. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected her to be there, but his first thought was of the slumbering baby boy left unattended in the other room.

Not bothering to do more than wrap a sheet around his lower half, Harry raced out of his bedroom and down the hall. He came to a sudden stop in the doorway of the baby’s room and smiled. Sitting in the rocking chair was Lenore, with the unnamed baby resting against her breast. The young boy was suckling quite greedily at her nipple and Lenore had her head leaned back against the pillow, eyelids resting gently.

“I’m not asleep,” she mumbled. “Just resting my eyes a moment…” she said.

Harry adjusted the sheet around his waist a bit more and stepped into the room. “You do that so naturally.”

This brought a flush to Lenore’s face. “Erm, thanks, I guess.”

Harry stood beside her and watched as the baby slowed his suckle until finally Lenore was able to lift him with ease away from her swollen bosom. He held the baby gently up over his shoulder and patted him on the back until he burped. “There we go,” he whispered and then placed the baby gently back into the bassinette, the Quidditch mobile still spinning around overhead. He turned his gaze to Lenore. “Maybe we should try talking again?” he said with a bit of a grin.

“Much as we do need to talk…” she let her voice trail off as she stood from the rocking chair, a blanket wrapped around her waist as well. “I don’t think I could physically stand for another round of your talking.”

It was Harry’s turn to blush. He hadn’t meant that they should go at it again, though it had been so long since he and Ginny had tried anything that having Lenore in his bed for any reason was a blessed relief. “Erm—”

“I should be going anyway…I want to try and straighten out this business with the ministry…” her voice trailed off and she averted her gaze from him.

“You could stay here, you know.” The words had escaped his lips before he had realized what he’d said. “I mean— just until things get straightened out, I’ve got connections at the ministry and I’m sure I could work something out…so you could see the baby, and I could see the baby…plus— he seems to take rather well to your breast feeding and I’d hate to deprive him of such—”

“Harry,” she said and turned to face him, placing a finger against his lips. “I get the point, I’ll stay.” She smiled.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but it was something. She was beautiful there was no denying that. Either way it suited him to keep her there in his house and if his blanket excuse was for the baby, then so be it. “Let’s go back to bed, I’ll get us some tea and get you something comfortable to sleep in…” he offered.

Lenore nodded. It had not been her intention to walk into the house of Harry Potter and stay for so long, but after feeding the baby, and seeing how much he cared for the baby, she could hardly turn away with the intentions of taking the child with her. But it seemed foolish, two people who had just met, barely having a connection to the child, let alone each other, to be raising him together. But perhaps he was right, perhaps he could swing something at the ministry, and Lenore hoped that it would be something pleasant. Following Harry back to the bedroom she waited for him to find an old t-shirt and pair of boxer shorts. “Thank you,” she said.

“No trouble. Let me go make some tea,” he said, slipping back into his boxers.

Just a short while later Lenore sat in Harry’s bed, sipping tea quietly with the sheets pulled up over her lap. “Do you think we should…” her voice trailed off.

“We should what?” he asked.

“Name him.”

“Oh,” said Harry. The thought had crossed his mind several times. The baby really did need a name, but it just didn’t seem right to give him a name without knowing for certain that he would be raising the child. And what if Hermione changed her mind, though the thought was unlikely, or if Ginny returned to him; surely she would want some say in the matter, though that thought was also unlikely. “He does need a name,” he said after another moment of thought. “I’m just not sure we’re the right people to bestow it upon him.”

Lenore nodded. “I know what you mean, but— I don’t suppose we can keep referring to him as the baby for much longer, can we?”

Harry shook his head. “I suppose not.”

This proved a difficult situation for them both. Lenore settled back against several pillows and placed her teacup on the nightstand. Harry gazed up at his bedroom ceiling.

“What about Devin?” she said. Lenore turned her head to the side, and Harry had done the same. They faced each other. “No?” and she frowned.

“Not really a Devin…” he said. “What about Arnold?” he suggested. This earned him a scrunched up face. “Alright, not Arnold.”

“This is difficult…” she said.

“Yeah, I don’t know…he just seems so peaceful and innocent, yet thrust into such a difficult situation…” he said.

Their eyes met for a moment and a smile crossed both of their lips. “Nolan,” they said together.

“Nolan,” Harry said and nodded.

“Nolan,” Lenore said.

He leaned his lips close to hers and kissed her. She was all too quick to return his kiss. “We named our baby Nolan,” she said. Her lips met his once more and they began twisting and turning about, touching each other and whimpering. Neither paid any mind to what she had actually said; that he was their baby. Little Nolan, innocent and unknowing, slept peacefully in the room just down the hall while Harry and Lenore made love for a third time that night.