Occultus Intus Vos

Occultus Intus Vos

Title: Occultus Intus Vos - Whisked Away

Chapter: 3/?

Author: Bek Allen

~*~*~*~*~

The Great Hall filled with the sounds of a hundred different owls and cries of delight from the students as the first of the Valentine’s Day mail was delivered; even Professor Vector received a tidy little stack of red and pink envelopes. However, it was the two barn owls struggling towards the head table against the tide of Valentine’s mail that held the attention of every member of staff that had been present in the Room of Requirement the night before.

Minerva released a sigh of relief as the two owls landed at opposite ends of the table without incident and shared a small smile with Hagrid over Hermione’s head. Both watched with bated breath as the young witch accepted the scroll of parchment from the owl’s outstretched leg before offering it a small piece of bacon; sitting back, she quickly flicked open the Daily Prophet, murmuring her thanks to the owl. Twin shouts of surprise came from both ends of the table as the Charms Mistress and Potions master were Portkeyed away.

The sound of a small cheer rising from the head table was drowned out as the students continued to laugh and exclaim over their morning valentines. Sprout and Vector smiled cheerfully at the empty space between them, Hooch drummed the table with her spoon, Poppy clapped, giggling in delight, and Hagrid and Minerva beamed at Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he rose to make the announcement that Charms and Potions for today would be covered by Madams Hooch and Pomfrey.

~*~*~*~

Hermione landed with a loud ‘thunk’ on the polished wooden floor. “Ow.” Even after fifteen years of living in the wizarding world, she still preferred walking, Apparating, or riding her bicycle to Portkeying and flying by broom. Standing up slowly, she did a quick check for her wand – still safely tucked into its pocket inside the sleeve of her robe – and rubbed her backside – the only casualty of the surprise port. A quick survey of the room showed no doors or windows; the room was lit only by the blazing fire currently emanating from the hearth. Letting her wand drop down into her waiting hand, she lifted the newspaper, tapping it experimentally in case it contained any more surprises. The image of the Minister of Magic scowled and moved his hand as if to fend off the length of vinewood before flashing a goofy smile and winking.

She rolled her eyes. “Incorrigible git,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at the Minister before rolling up the paper and focusing on a picture of Hogwarts in her mind’s eye. She was, after all, the Charms Mistress of Hogwarts; a simple Portkey should be as simple as opening a door.

~*~*~*~

Severus yelled in frustration; the Alchemy Weekly lay in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room where he’d thrown it in anger at not being portkeyed back to Hogwarts. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and focused on the road outside of the gates to the school, shifting slightly on the balls of his feet. There was no squeezing darkness, no pressure on his ears that accompanied the normal state of Apparation and when he opened his eyes, no changing of the scenery from stark walls, bright fire place and inviting bed to the open Scottish hills and the magnificent castle that had been his home since he was eleven-years-old.

He threw up his hands in defeat and slumped onto the foot of the bed, carefully trying to place a name or face to the action of his kidnapping. The last of Voldemort’s Death Eaters had been rounded up a year ago – Peter Pettigrew had been as slippery as ever after the death of his Lord and had found his fate under the hood of a Dementor in Azkaban six months prior. The list for his head was a relatively short one; with the exception of some crackpot that had never voiced their opinion of the Dark Lord when the War had been in full swing, he knew of no one besides former students who might wish their former Potions master harm and even that list was not terribly long.

He and Potter had laid their grudge to rest the day Voldemort met his fate, Ron Weasley had even gone so far as to hug him at the end of the war celebrations, Longbottom had moved to Australia with a recommendation from Snape to study at the Sydney Botany College for Wizards and Witches and Granger had been avoiding him for a year. Even if she had wanted some kind of harm to befall him, this had the scent of manipulation all over it, not angry Gryffindor.

With another bone-weary sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, deciding to wait out whatever it was. He would either die or be rescued; really… it was a win-win situation. Be put out of his misery at not having the woman he valued above all else or live to kill the bastard who tampered with his mail. Just as he resigned himself to sitting and waiting for the inevitable, a tiny click echoed through the room. Turning his head, his eyes widened as a door appeared on the opposite wall. Cautiously, he rose and moved towards it, wand at the ready to defend himself against whomever bought him here.

~*~*~*~

Her captors, she had originally thought, were sloppy, but she had to revise that conclusion when she’d learnt that - one floor down from the room she had started out in - she still could not do any form of magic, not even a quick Incendio to light the stove in the kitchen she was currently standing in. Muttering to herself about how glad she was to have come from a Muggle background, she set about checking the cupboards – a good cup of tea was what she needed before she continued her exploration of this place for any signs of her kidnappers.

Cup in hand, Hermione moved on from the kitchen, wand tucked safely back inside its pocket. If she had to defend herself, she had a cup of scalding hot tea and, if that failed, well, male or female, a kick to the crotch would drop a person to their knees most times; granted, it’d probably take a lot more than that to drop a witch rather than a wizard, but it would distract the witch long enough for her to think of something else. Moving as silently as she could, she stepped into what she assumed was the parlor.

It was a comfortable room with squashy armchairs, polished end tables, two small bookcases and an inviting looking hearth above which hung a portrait. She eyed it carefully; it wasn’t a wizarding one, that was for sure. The young man stared out at her with wide, blue eyes and a small, knowing smile; there was something about him, something vaguely familiar that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Not that she could ever remember knowing something with that kind of hair – thick, a slight wave but not as unruly as her own and strawberry blond. She sighed; perhaps it was just her imagination trying to come up with an explanation as to what she was doing here. Turning slowly, she made to leave the room when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“I had rather hoped you’d have ventured into this part of the house much sooner, Hermione.”

Her heart leapt into her mouth as she screamed, her teacup falling to the floor and shattering as her hand flew to her throat.

~*~*~*~

His heart plummeted to his stomach… and kept on dropping as the scream shattered the silence around him while he stalked down the corridor. He knew that scream, he had heard it many a time during the war; first when she’d been taken from Hogsmeade and again when he’d brought her before Dumbledore at the house in Spinner’s End. The last time he had heard it was when she’d been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse by Lucius Malfoy before he’d silently slit the bastard’s throat with a curse of his own.

Dropping the stealth he’d used for twenty-five years as a spy for Albus ‘The-Man-Who-Couldn’t-Mind-His-Own-Business’ Dumbledore, he ran through the house towards the direction of ear-splitting screams and shattering glass, his wand at the ready even though several charms had already proved its uselessness. His heart pounded against his rib cage as the house became silent once more, praying to any deity that would listen that she was still alive. He slid into what he could only assume was the front entry of their prison, knocking over a vase as he rushed toward the only visible doorway.

“Ah, Severus,” the voice stopped him dead in his tracks, “so good of you to finally join us.”

He let his wand fall by his side, face flushed and chest heaving as he tried to slow the beating of his heart. He shot the Headmaster of Hogwarts a glare that could freeze the arse off the devil himself; if Albus was here, then there were only two explanations as to their sudden appearance in this place, and judging by the twinkle in the old goat’s eyes, they were here at the bequest of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

“Severus!” Hermione sank down into a chair, hand pressed over her heart as though to keep it from leaping from her chest and onto the floor.

“Professor Granger,” he said, inclining his head towards her slightly, letting the icy mask of the past year slip into place. Ignoring the pained look in her brown eyes, he turned completely to face Dumbledore. “Return us to the school immediately.”

“Alas, I cannot do that,” he replied, a tiny smile playing about his lips, not sorry at all that he couldn’t return them to the school.

“You mean you won’t return us to the school.” Snape’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend.

“I beg your pardon, but you must return us to the school at once.” Hermione looked at the Headmaster, “I’ve got classes to run and responsibilities to attend to.”

Albus smiled, “Your classes have been taken care of and you cannot return to the school until Monday morning. I think you will find the accommodations to your liking, though you will not have the use of your wands.”

“What do you mean not until Monday morning?” Hermione rose from her chair, arms folded across her chest.

“You will find everything explained to you in this letter,” he said happily, tapping his wand to the side table and grinning as a piece of parchment unfurled. “I’m sure you will find my home as accommodating as your own. Should you need anything, simply ask the wardrobes and they shall provide you with fresh linens, clothing and food, although you will have to prepare it yourself.” Rising from his seat, Dumbledore flicked his wand at the teacup and vase, smiling as they righted themselves. “I shall see you both Monday morning at seven o’clock in my office; until then, good day and happy Valentine's Day.” He inclined his head slightly at the pair before popping out of existence.

Severus scowled at the place where the Headmaster had once stood, his dark gaze narrowing as he realized he’d have to spend the next three days only in the company of Hermione Granger. It wasn’t enough that he had to see her twice a day at breakfast and dinner, oh no, for Albus that just would not do. The meddlesome old bat had to disrupt their routine of avoidance and lock them in his home for the next three days without any contact from the ‘outside world.’