Vain Wisdom All and False Philosophy

Author’s Notes: I send all of my heart-felt gratitude to my beta, melusin, for her hard work. She has been correcting my story and advising me for over a year now!

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Twenty Three - Those Thoughts That Wander Through Eternity

Severus didn’t say a word.

He couldn’t.

Far too much had already been said and done tonight.

If he attempted to speak to Hermione, there were only two exact words that should exit his mouth.

So he remained silent.

Juggling Hermione’s limp body weight by one thigh and arm, Severus reached into his pocket for his wand. With one swift flick of the wrist, his office door banged open and then promptly crashed shut behind him.

It was nearly dawn.

As he had carried Hermione’s unconscious body across Hogwarts’ grounds, the black sky had quickly paled on him. Snape had chased after the darkness until he was greeted by the obscurity of the dungeon corridors. The severity of Hermione’s wounds hadn’t become worrisome until he’d been almost forced to view them under the morning sun.

Balancing her weight once more, Snape turned the brass handle the moment it materialized on the stone wall in his office.

Rapidly twirling his wand, the back of his private lab room revealed a wide day-bed.

If Hermione had been at all coherent, she would have immediately taken notice of Severus’ sharp and abrupt movements.

When the next twenty-four hours were over and done, Severus himself wouldn’t remember the steps he had taken carrying her through the corridors nor the measuring and slicing in this lab. He was acting on instinct while his mind feverishly raced within a separate realm, totally unconcerned with its surroundings.

Snape leaned over the newly Transfigured cushions and cautiously extended his hands. Hermione limply slid down his arms until her backside rested on the wide bed.

Spinning away from her, wand still in hand, he Summoned a large cauldron and several bottles to the worktable in front of him.

Everything landed precisely where he needed it to be.

Hermione’s erratic intake of air sent him into action.

Snape sighed, both with resignation and apprehension, as he set to work with the onerous task of healing her. He knew that it was his responsibility to ensure that Hermione was restored to health and speedily heading towards a complete recovery.

Dumbledore needed her.

The Dark Lord needed her.

And both would hold Severus responsible if she were to die without their prior knowledge—or instruction.

*** *** ***

Not long after the time Pansy had finally found Remus, he had urged her to Apparate back to the castle.

Despite her protestations and desires, Remus had assured her that he would remain protected. The cave was under his control and guidance, now. When she had finally been convinced of his physical safety, Remus had taken the opportunity of stressing the impairment that would be caused to his mental stability if he wasn’t assured of her own wellbeing.

“How can I carry on here if I must constantly worry and wonder if you are wandering about in the woods at any moment?” he had told her.

Guilt successfully driven to her core, Pansy had promised that she would remain within the safety of Hogwarts’ walls and wards.

The entire night had been fiercely cold in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, yet it had become even more so as dawn grew on the horizon. Her body craved for the warmth of a fire as she trod the extensive grounds on her trek back into the castle.

An insistent knot in Pansy’s gut threatened her with the impulse to retch. Pansy had absolutely no idea what Hermione expected of her, nor did she care… exactly. She had started to develop a story and easily assumed that the Gryffindor would go along with it.

That is, if Hermione even came back.

That gruesome knot in her belly forbade Pansy the luxury of going back to her room for sleep.

Aimlessly wandering the corridors, hands fidgeting in dread, Pansy prayed she would cross the path of a professor, who would demand an explanation for her being out of bed. Hermione and Pansy were on the brink of having their nights’ events exposed to the entire castle, and eventually, to the Order and the Death Eaters. If Pansy didn’t come clean—in a sense—to Dumbledore, all of her lies would unravel around her.

The idea of seeking help from Professor Snape did not cross her mind.

Much sooner than she had anticipated, Pansy found herself standing before Professor McGonagall’s office.

“Miss Parkinson?” a stern voice commanded behind her.

Gasping loudly, Pansy whirled around, face lit with fright.

“What happened?” Professor McGonagall demanded.

An abrupt movement forced Pansy to flinch, and she let out a sharp squeal. She was fiercely grabbed by the arm. McGonagall towered over the Slytherin, forcing the girl to feel no bigger than a first year.

Pansy fearfully looked up into the wide eyes of the Gryffindor Head of House, dread pulsing with the blood-flow of the wrist held in the woman’s grip. Pansy’s mouth fell slack, her lips opening and closing.

“Pansy Parkinson!” McGonagall screamed more fiercely.

Pansy continued to silently stand there, dumbstruck that Professor McGonagall had already assumed that something ghastly had happened, and that she had caused it. Resentment stopped the explanation dead on her tongue. Pansy hadn’t even admitted anything yet, and already McGonagall has made it very clear that she was in trouble.

Little did Pansy know that Professor McGonagall wasn’t the least bit angry.

She was horrified.

Minerva had rounded the corner to her office and had been stunned by the unexpected sight of a pathetic figure standing outside her door.

The figure of a filthy, mud-caked and weather-beaten girl, who looked like she had run to hell and back. A girl who continued fidgeting oddly, her expression hollow with obliviousness as to the state she was in.

*** *** ***

Severus was mindful not to contaminate his fingertips as he wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

The sound of an odd slap against the stone floor momentarily diverted Severus’ attention from the potion he had been preparing so carefully.

Turning around, he frowned at the sight of Hermione’s lifeless arm resting on the floor. Coming up to her side, he rested her hand back on the cushion. Tucking her arm carefully against her thigh, Severus readjusted her torn robes.

He hesitated.

With a rumbling sigh, Snape finally lifted her robes slightly to ensure that all of the slicing hexes had been properly closed. A part of Snape was grateful that he had been the one assigned to take care of Hermione. No one else would have been as capable of closing wounds so deep.

Well… one other person could, but his body was deteriorating so fast, Snape doubted if he still possessed the same abilities. Thinking of Dumbledore, Snape questioned the oddity of how long he and Hermione had been down here without interruption. Already having sent his Patronus to Albus the second they had entered the castle, Snape was shocked that Minerva hadn’t kicked down his door by now. Minerva would no doubt demand total charge of Hermione’s care.

Turning back towards his potion, Severus groaned at the idea of being required to explain… something to those who would want to know how this had happened to her. They needed to think up a reasonable story, but he decided to wait until he could collaborate with Hermione first.

It had already been long obvious to Snape that the truth was completely out of the question.

Truth. Snape snorted. He himself didn’t even know what that was anymore.

Lowering the flame beneath the cauldron, Severus slowly closed his eyes. He dropped his face to the potion’s blue surface, whispering the precise words needed to complete it. Snape had whispered those words so many times, it was automatic. The verse barely registered in his thoughts, and yet it didn’t damage the spell’s effect. What truly mattered was the intent and will of the person who said it. And Severus’ intent towards those who ingested this potion was always the same.

Dipping a ladle in, Severus disturbed the pristine surface, spooning the liquid into a ceramic beaker. Carefully cradling the mug in both palms, Severus turned towards the stone wall opposite him and disappeared into his private rooms.

Within moments he was back in the lab room again, urging his hands underneath Hermione’s motionless body.

Snape cautiously lifted her towards him.

Her arm fell from her side again. The movement forced her to jerk awake.

Severus swallowed uncomfortably, steadying his vision to avoid hers. Hermione’s eyes flittered a bit before he was aware that she had finally focused on him.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione softly whispered, gripping him tighter.

Exhaling, Severus couldn’t help shaking his head in disbelief. “Whatever for?”

“Questioning you… and judging,” she breathed weakly. Hermione may have been groggy with exhaustion, but she had the mind to speak cautiously. “Judging your assistance to those… men… who escaped. I know you had no choice in the matter.”

No choice, Severus repeated darkly to himself.

Drawing his bedclothes back, Severus carefully laid her on the mattress. Hermione gripped his wrist before his arms had completely pulled away from her.

“I didn’t…” she gasped, alarmed that he might be very angry with her. “I revealed nothing… I swear.”

“I know,” Snape responded, sitting beside her.

Hermione hiccoughed before leaning back against his pillows. There was a barrier between them now, so strong that it was suffocating. Snape itched to pull away during the uncomfortable silence. They could not pretend something serious hadn’t happened, and they certainly could not go on as they had before without making some type of acknowledgement. Both knew what was needed to purge this encumbrance.

To neither of their surprise, Hermione was more gracious than he.

“It’s… all right,” she attempted to say with a smile. When Snape still didn’t turn to look at her, Hermione tugged at the hand still clutched in her grasp. “Really, Severus… I’m okay… I’m not so thick not to acknowledge that whatever was said and done needed to be… or else I wouldn’t be here.”

Face forever wearing that mask of indifference, Snape glanced at her briefly as he reached for the ceramic beaker already waiting on the bedside table. Carefully grasping it with both hands, he urged Hermione to open her mouth.

Lifting her sore shoulders off the pillows, Hermione immediately complied. Mouth open, she lifted her chin slightly as he brought the cup to her lips. Pale blue fumes filled the air separating their faces. Hermione lost herself to the euphoric dance of the mist, unaware that behind them, Snape was watching her.

“It’s safe,” Snape said needlessly. He was more concerned with filling the silence with his voice than saying something profound.

Hermione was already noisily gulping the cool liquid. The edges of her lips rose in return, stressing how unnecessary such a comment was.

*** *** ***

“She was what?” Professor McGonagall gasped. Headmaster Dumbledore rested his hand on her shoulder, reminding her of the necessity to remain calm.

“Captured,” Pansy repeated hesitantly. Seated in the Headmaster’s office before two incredibly intimidating figures, Pansy struggled to finish her story. “I-I-didn’t know what to do! I ran back as soon as I could!”

Minerva made a move towards the Floo. “My Gods! Something needs to be done!”

“Calm down, Professor McGonagall,” Dumbledore quickly called after her. He gifted her with his serene smile and the miniscule amount of twinkle he could add to his aging eyes. “Something already has been done to retrieve her.”

*** *** ***

Severus was lying in bed with one arm over his head.

Hermione was beneath the covers, he above them.

He’d been thinking far too much the past couple of hours. His mind had been moving feverishly since Minerva had started screaming in his private office, demanding that he speak to her. After she had been assured that Hermione was alive and healing, Minerva had offered to take her to the hospital wing. To Snape’s shock and confusion, she conceded to his request that Hermione not be moved.

Snape had immediately grown suspicious. When he had asked if Albus wanted to speak to him, Minerva had told him there was no need. Pansy Parkinson had already told the Headmaster everything that had led to Hermione being captured.

Pansy Parkinson?

According to Minerva, Pansy had told them that she had been sneaking out at night to go to the pubs in Hogsmeade. When Hermione saw her leave the castle, she’d decided to follow the Slytherin instead of confronting her. Eventually, Hermione had challenged Pansy and demanded that she turn back to the castle, but Pansy had violently refused and run away. Moments later, Pansy had heard a scuffle in the street. Turning towards it, she’d fearfully watched as two black-cloaked figures—Death Eaters—grabbed Hermione and Disapparated away.

Severus was appalled and angered as he listened to this, knowing that similar things had happened in the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, and not Hogsmeade. Hermione should know better than to go running out in the middle of the blasted night to follow people.

He would take her to task for that… later.

Minerva continued. Apparently, Dumbledore had decided to take pity on Pansy for her honesty and the information that her fiancé, Theodore Nott, and her father—who were both Death Eaters—would not hesitate in disposing of her for such blatant acts of insubordination within a society where complete submission was required of wives.

After listening to this tale, Severus asked again if Dumbledore wanted to see him. Surely the old man would want to know the events that had taken place between Hermione being captured up until he had received word of her safe presence in the castle?

Minerva had uncomfortably told Snape that Albus was sleeping and should not be disturbed.

Something wasn’t right; he had seen it in her eyes.

On the morning after his betrayal of Albus and the Order, Severus wasn’t prepared for the idea of not being questioned by the old man. The heavy weight on his shoulders only intensified.

Now, lying in bed next to the young woman he had used for his own means, he couldn’t stop thinking about his allegiances. The things he had said at the feet of the Dark Lord had seemed entirely reasonable and justified at the time.

But, most of the sinister and selfish decisions he had made always seemed justified when the smoldering of his tattoo was fresh. Snape was just not accustomed to thinking of such things after the fact. Everything he had told the Dark Lord: Dumbledore’s intentions towards Black with the use of Hermione, and Black’s fascination with her, had been entirely true. Snape started to wonder how much he might have damaged everything that Albus had worked so hard to accomplish these past twenty years.

Snape’s expression darkened—just as it always did when he thought of the past. He had done his fair share of hard labor as well.

His distracted reminiscence faded with an unexpected movement at his side. Hermione jerked awake with a loud gasp.

She gazed at her surroundings in confusion and alarm before sinking into sated comprehension at the sight of Severus by her side.

“Bad dream,” she mumbled sleepily.

“About?” Snape questioned, already knowing the answer. Folding his arms behind his head, Snape steadily gazed at the canopy above him.

“Him,” Hermione spat. “And something Harry said… I suppose I never realized how right he was. Once the Dark Lord has it in his mind to kill you… you’re dead. I’ve never felt so completely helpless…” Yawning nosily, Hermione abandoned her train of thought and quickly fell back asleep.

Severus was grateful. He wanted silence at the moment.

He had felt her helplessness as well and despised it. He had saved Dumbledore’s three favorite dunderheads, especially Potter, on more than one occasion and had never enjoyed it.

It was an obligation in the eyes of Albus, so it had irritated Snape no end.

He had no choice in the matter. If he wasn’t being given orders of heroism by an idealistic old wizard, then he was charged with similar duties by a homicidal snake-man.

The Dark Lord had ordered that he ensure Hermione’s safety, and it had tainted that act of valor for him.

The last time Severus had saved someone because he truly wanted to…

Hermione flinched in her sleep when Severus suddenly sat up in bed. He pushed himself off the mattress to cross the room.

He needed to move his body to force away the memories of happenings from twenty-odd years ago. Severus shook his head, determined to bring his mind to the present. But this was how it usually was when he did both of his masters’ bidding. His mind constantly going from one event to another. It didn’t matter if he was asleep or awake.

Snape turned, intent on leaving the room to find the drink he knew would adequately distract him.

Snape didn’t even make it to the door.

Alcohol had fiercely been on his mind until a more pleasing distraction caught his attention.

The bedclothes layering Hermione had snagged during his move away from the bed, and now a good portion dragged across the floor.

Severus slowly walked back across his bedroom. Upon reaching his four-poster, he lazily leaned against it, bracing his forehead on the heavy wood. Glaring up through strands of dark hair, Severus eyed Hermione’s bare back. Her unruly hair was a proper contrast to her pale and smooth skin. Severus followed the curve of her spine until it met with the bedclothes barely covering her arse.

Severus swallowed, idly closing his eyes.

If the Dark Lord hadn’t ordered Snape to take her… to watch over her… after everything he had said to add value to her life…would he have attempted to save her? Or was she merely a pawn used to save his own life?

Snape regretted that series of questions the moment they had begun. Such probing forced the remembrance of events he had no desire to relive, yet he succumbed to the images.

Severus’ hands shook uncontrollably. Raising them, palms up, he gasped at his inability to prevent the tremors. When clasping them together didn’t work, his fingers sought the armrests. Skin already unnaturally pallid, his knuckles whitened as his hands harshly fisted around the wood.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Dumbledore gazed at Severus from an angle, vision drawn to the armrests. “Are you still yielding to dependent… amusements, Severus?”

“Did you hear what I said?” Snape snarled.

Dumbledore shook his head pitifully. “Are you asking me… or telling me?”

“The Dark Lord’s been dead—”

“You and I both know he isn’t dead.”

“He’s been gone,” Severus loudly corrected, “for five years! His supporters,” Severus spat disgustingly, “aren’t as devout as they once were. There’s only a handful of us now, including those like Lucius who still claim the defense of the Imperius Curse. It won’t be long now before everything is forgotten…”

“You know you can never leave your post.”

“So you condemn me to a life of hell? The only reason I have remained among them—when I had made it very clear to you I desired nothing more than to abandon it—the only reason is you.”

“You can choose to leave my service anytime you want, Severus. What I meant was that you can never leave his. You are branded. You will forever belong to Tom. Do his work or die. Now ask yourself: would you rather die, working blindly in the cause against Muggle-borns, or pretend to work for the cause while you’re truly functioning for the light.”

Severus turned his head slightly to avoid Dumbledore’s penetrating gaze. If he kept allowing the old man to easily peruse his thoughts, Severus would never be rid of his memories.

“And we both know you had condemned yourself—not I.”

Severus started. He allowed himself the freedom of clasping his right hand over his long inactive tattoo.

“This,” Severus hissed, “wasn’t what I wanted. And I certainly didn‘t expect what it had become.”

Dumbledore now found himself to be the one caught off guard. He guiltily diverted his eyes. “Yes… I know what you wanted when you kneeled to receive that.”

Recognizing what he had inadvertently caused Dumbledore to remember, Severus betrayed his emotions by leaning forward. “I wasn’t trying to make you—I didn’t mean to bring up—”

Dumbledore smiled sadly as he lifted his palm. “No need… no need. I’ve already told you time and time again… you don‘t need to apologize any longer.”

And Severus hadn’t, even during the few times he’d recognized an apology from him was needed and had been earned.

Severus relaxed the harsh clench of his eyes, gazing down at half-naked female body splayed across his mattress.

Pushing himself away from his perch against the four-poster, he unbuttoned his shirt and returned to bed to chase a few measly hours of sleep before classes.

*** *** ***

That day, Hermione had had the most wonderful and arousing dream.

She dreamt that she was sleeping in Professor Snape’s bed, his voluminous bedclothes and pillows draped around her.

This had in fact happened, but she was elated to be aware of it in her sleep.

Simply being invited to enter such a private man’s chamber was reward enough. Something about her being allowed to even touch the same pillow that such a dangerous and severe spy rested his head against drove butterflies into her belly.

‘Snape’ and ‘pillows’ were two words no one in this school would ever think to put together. But the combination, and her presence against them, made Hermione smile and hum in her dreams.

In her dream, Hermione had hugged one of her professor’s pillows between her knees as the bed sagged beside her.

The weight on the bed drew closer as a tentative hand caressed the rise of her hip. In her dream, that nimble arm drew Hermione’s back flush against a bare chest. A cold face pressed against the back of her neck.

Two words Hermione had been yearning to hear had finally been spoken in her dreams.

That cavernously velvet, baritone voice calmly breathed a phrase against her neck.

Hermione woke up late in the evening. She had slept all day. But she still couldn’t forget her dream. Lying in his bed, sleep quickly took hold of her consciousness once more.

As she felt herself drifting off, Hermione repeated the sound of Snape saying, “I’m sorry,” hoping that she would dream of it again.

*** *** ***

Severus was eagerly anticipating the scene that was due to enfold by the end of the day.

He entered the Great Hall for supper, his entire being filled with pleasure at the disgusted glance Weasley sent his way.

He expected a similar one from Potter, but the boy’s look was one of fear.

The last thing he ever expected from Potter was fear. But Snape was doubly pleased to see that the worried look only intensified when the boy turned to expectantly gaze at those entering through the Great Hall doors.

So, Black still didn’t know.

Snape knew that the intelligence of Hermione’s… experiences… last night could not be kept secret from Potter and Weasley for more than a day. No doubt they were alit with panic when her absence from classes and meals continued.

The Gryffindors knew the book-worm would undeniably attend classes half-comatose. Snape had regrettably experienced that side of her nature this morning when she had awoken during his morning routine. The blasted girl had actually attempted to get out of bed!

Severus was so alarmed by her sudden movements and angered by her carelessness that he brutally demanded she lie back down before he tied her limbs to the bedposts.

Expecting a fierce row that was usually the result of making demands on her, Snape was doubly surprised when Hermione smiled artfully at him and quietly went back to bed. Before he departed, Severus couldn’t help but ask what exactly she found so amusing about his displeasure.

The witch had the cheek to reply, “Once you’d finished tying me to your bed… Professor... I have a feeling you might have missed your first class as well.”

Sitting at the High Table, Severus adjusted himself inconspicuously. His robes tightened uncomfortably at the thought of her words. As tempting as such a notion was, Severus wasn’t an animal. If merely walking to and from class was detrimental to her recovery, then certainly other… activities… would aggravate the healing process. He hadn’t spent his energy and skill to heal her for nothing.

He could wait, Severus thought with a smirk.

The smirk dancing on one corner of his mouth spread to the other side. He couldn’t help smiling gruesomely once the mad dog entered the Great Hall. Just as he expected, Black went straight to the Gryffindor table wearing a very convincing expression of complete anxiety.

Potter’s mouth started moving feverishly. The boy hesitantly glanced at Snape and sharply turned his eyes back to Black.

Snape knew that Minerva had told the boys everything she had told him last night. He wished he could have seen their faces when she had informed them that Hermione wasn’t in the hospital wing where they could visit her… but in Professor Snape’s rooms.

The woman always picked the right moment to admonish him. Minerva leaned into Snape and harshly whispered, “Could you at least pretend that you’re not enjoying this?”

Snape snorted as he reached for his goblet. He nearly spluttered when Black finally screamed, “SHE’S WHERE?”

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Author’s Notes: Sadly, we have come to the end of completed chapters and quick updates. The next chapter is finished and in the hands of my beta, which I'll post as soon as she corrects all my mistakes, but this story is very much a WIP. But don't worry, I'm trying to write as much as possible as quickly as possible! Thank you loyal readers!

-Melusin has been incredible. I recommend all to read her award winning Potter Place Prompt Snape/Hermione fic Three Blooms in the Cauldron. But if you want some dark intelligent smut go check out Needs Must. Both fics, and many more can be found at http://asylums.insanejournal.com/melusin_la_fey/

-Happy you enjoyed the chapter, Killer Kadoogan! Hopefully, this one answered some of your questions. Thank you for the continuous reads and reviews!
-Thank you, Lauriurix!
-Very excited you enjoyed it, bLondpierogi! Thanks for the read and review!
-I'll try to get the next chapter out asap, girl_with_wings! Thanks for the read and review!
-Thank you, Awakenelda! It's so very rewarding to read such enthusiastic reviews! And nothing pleases me more to know how much my readers are enjoying Snape and Hermione's relationship. Thanks for the read and review!

-Chapter title take from John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book ii. Line 146.

-Next:"Hermione hadn’t talked about the Death Eater meeting or her horrid run-in with Voldemort and Macnair, and now it was becoming increasingly evident that she needed to. Her feelings and worries were preying upon her, and if she didn’t verbally rationalize all of these confusing thoughts soon, she feared she would succumb to the mental turmoil she had endured back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."