Repeat as Needed

A one-shot by Voracious Reader



Disclaimer: All things in the Potterverse belong to JK Rowling, and I’m not making any money from this.





She’d been captive for three days, or as close as she could estimate. An iron collar around her neck was connected to a six foot chain with the end bolted into the heavy stone blocks of the wall of her cell. Hermione Ganger, brains of the Gryffindor Trio, was cold, badly bruised, and very hungry, but still alive.



She had been sneaking back into Hogwarts from the Forbidden Forest, she remembered. She smiled a crooked smile when she thought back to that night. What was it? Oh, yes; a date. She’d had a date with Severus in their special little place, a cave he’d been hiding in after killing Dumbledore. Just her bad luck to have been captured by a pair of Death Eaters who had been coming to visit him. Still, the date had been spectacular; she used the memories to escape into her mind when they tortured her.



Oddly, she had not yet been raped. She would have thought they’d have gone for that right away in an attempt to break her, but no, all they had done was to beat and insult her, deprive her of food and water except for a few gulps here and there.



She was trying to get some sleep, at least as much as the conditions would allow, when the door to the cell banged open and her eyes burned from bright wand-light. A swirl of cold air set the moldy straw of her pile rustling. “Get on your knees, muddy!” grumped the voice of her guard. She recognized him as the one that loosened one of her teeth. Luckily, he hadn’t had it knocked out completely.



She complied, rising to her aching knees and settling in a position that didn’t aggravate too many of her bruises or cuts.



“Leave us.” The voice was…Gods, did he come for her? No! Thoughts flashed through her confused mind.



The door clanged shut and the tall figure in dark robes came forward. He summoned a light orb to float above them, and then a wave of an ebony wand transfigured the straw into a narrow bed. The empty water bucket became a three-legged stool. He bent and released the collar before he set her on the bed.



“Hermione, we don’t have much time,” Severus said softly. His black eyes burned into hers. “The Dark Lord has decided that you will be the main event at tonight’s revel. Do you know what that means?”



Her voice was raspy from screaming, but she was able to whisper, “I wondered why they hadn’t raped me yet. He wants to do it himself, doesn’t he?” She shuddered. Until now, nothing had really reached her, but the thought of that vile thing touching her made her want to vomit. “Please, ‘Rus, kill me! Don’t let him have me, please. I beg you.”



“Shhh, my darling, hush,” he said quietly as he cast a small healing charm over the worst of her wounds. He pulled an opalescent bottle, about the size of a water bottle from an inner pocket of his cloak. He took a deep breath. “There is a way to kill the bastard, if you can do it, Hermione. It will take all your courage, and it is dangerous, but you are the only one who can be close enough for this to work.”



She stared at him, “But the Horcruxes…”



“We got the last of them yesterday.” He said, glancing over his shoulder at the closed door. “We put Potter himself under a stasis spell and gave him the Draught of Living Death. It was enough for the last piece of Voldemort’s soul to be cut loose. He’s mortal, but shielded from most magic, the bastard.”



“You’re repeating yourself, ‘Rus,” she said with a slight smile. She felt better, now that the worst of her injuries were healed. “What did you have in mind?”



“That’s my girl,” He said with a smirk. He showed her the bottle again. “This potion comes from the Anasazi of North America, a very powerful magical people. They call it the ‘Tears of the Poison Women’. If you drink it, you will become poisonous to the touch, unless the other person has taken the same potion. When he tries to rape you, the poison will be absorbed almost instantly through the skin and he will die.”



“What about the Prophecy? Harry is supposed to be the one who kills him, isn’t he?” Hermione asked doubtfully. She looked at the glimmering bottle in consternation.



Severus shook his head. “The hell with the Prophecy. Potter is still recovering from the stasis and the Draught of Living Death; he’ll never make it here in time to save you, so we’re going to do this on our own, love. Once the Dark Lord is dead, I can Apparate us out to safety, but not until he dies. Will you do it?”



She stared at him for a long time before she reached for the bottle. “Kiss me first, Severus.”



********



Severus Snape made his way into the Dark Lord’s presence and bowed, waiting to be acknowledged.



“Ah, Snape! How is the Mudblood? Fit for tonight’s entertainment, I hope?” Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed with vicious glee. He leaned back in his ornate chair and smiled at the partying groups of Deatheaters. “Though, I don’t think our friends would miss her much if she weren’t. “ He glanced over to where Goyle Sr. was energetically raping a young Muggle, whether male or female was impossible to tell under the blood.



Impassively, Severus said “I healed the worst of her injuries, my Lord. I assumed you would want her as physically fit as possible? After all, she is to be an example, is she not?”



********



The ‘example’ went well, at first. Hermione was dragged into the revel at the end of her chain, like a poorly-trained dog. A few quick bouts of Crucio and some physical kicking; a glimpse of Bellatrix sulking as her place with her Lord was momentarily usurped. She spit on Hermione as she was pulled past to the raised dais at the front of the room.



“My loyal ones!” Voldemort gloated. “See the gift that Perkins and Westbourne brought to me a few days ago! Harry Potter’s best friend, the Mudblood Granger.” His lipless smile was utterly chilling to both his potential victim and his followers. He ran a clawed finger down her cheek, leaving a long bleeding scratch in its wake.



He licked the red drops from the tip of his claw. “When I’m done with you, Mudblood, I’ll let the rest of them have a go, shall I?” he hissed at the pallor on her face. “I mustn’t be selfish. Now, let’s unwrap my gift.” and he ripped the last rags of her clothing from her body with a wave of his wand.



The rest of the example went very badly, from Voldemort’s point of view. Touching her cheek had made him feel a bit, well, sick. Licking her blood from the edge of his fingernail made him feel even worse, as if a sudden fire had erupted under his skin. He backed away from her. “What’s happening here?” he yelled in sudden fear and anger. Then he began to scream.



Hermione screamed as well, scrabbling backwards like a panicked crab until she hit the base of the heavy throne. She crouched there, naked, as she watched Voldemort’s final moments.



Severus watched as the snake-faced dictator’s skin began to bubble, and then slip off his bones like the skin of an over-ripe banana. The smell was absolutely awful. The phoenix wand fell from the tips of the finger bones holding it, and then the bones fell as well. Voldemort was probably still screaming, but his vocal cords had gone too liquid to support the sound. Besides, the elite corps of Death Eaters were either screaming themselves or trying to get out of the room before they vomited. It was a surprisingly long time, relatively, before Severus felt the anti-apparition jinx on the room lift.



He picked his way around the spreading, slightly lumpy puddle that once was the Dark Lord and went to where Hermione was crouched against the side of the throne, a fist jammed in her mouth in sheer horror as she stared in shock at the remains of the Dark Lord. He bent and lifted Hermione, wrapping them both in his cloak.



“Severus, stop!” she shrieked. “Don’t touch me! No one can touch me!” She was hysterically trying to pull out of his arms. He ignored her and they vanished with a crack like thunder.



They reappeared outside Grimmuald Place and were welcomed with astonished joy. Well, Hermione was, anyway. Snape was stupefied and levitated away to be locked in the basement. After a long argument and wrapping herself in the parlor curtains to prevent anyone from touching her, she managed to persuade them to go check the ballroom of Riddle Manor for a really ugly stain and then release Severus.



While Shacklebolt and Tonks went to check their story, a still-shaky Harry was surprised when his best friend refused to allow him to hug her. “Later, Potter, in about thirty days, Miss Granger will be able to suffer your contact again.” Severus walked in carrying a healing salve for the remaining abrasions and bruises Hermione was sporting.



“He’s right, Harry, it will be a month before the poison in my blood dissipates enough for someone to touch me.” Hermione warned him off. She was now wearing an old set of Harry’s pajamas, transfigured to more or less fit her, a pair of slippers and opera gloves. If they’d had a balaclava handy, she’d have insisted on wearing that, too, to keep anything from contacting her skin.



“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Ron groused. He almost reached out but Harry stopped him.



“No Ron. Severus told me about a potion from America that makes your skin poisonous. The smallest touch will kill.” Harry said. “Only people who have taken the same potion can touch you if you’ve had it. For the next month, Snape is the only one who can touch her. “



Hermione looked at Severus as he began to apply the salve to her skin. He was not wearing gloves; had cast no ‘Impervious‘charm or other protecting charm. “Severus, did you take the potion, too? But why?”



His black eyes stared at her, warming her. “A month without human contact, Hermione? You’d go mad, love. I’d go mad, not being able to touch you. I nearly went mad before I found out where you were. I won’t leave you alone, my dear. Never again.” His fingers curled smoothly around her ankle in a private caress. Hermione felt her skin heat under the touch.



“Kreacher!” Harry said. When the elf popped into view, bowing, Harry ordered “Kreacher, prepare a suite for two with a private bath and sitting room near the top of the house. Make sure there are lots of books and a potions workbench. You will be delivering meals for two there for the next month. That will be all.”



“Yes, Master Harry” the elf grumped and vanished again.



“Isolation, Potter?” Severus smirked at his nemesis. “Are you quarantining us?” This could be fun, he thought as he stood up in front of Hermione. She was blushing, not meeting his eyes.



“Merely a safety precaution, of course, sir,” Harry said smoothly. “And it will give Mrs. Weasley time to plan your wedding, as well.” His smirk was very Slytherin-esque.



“My WHAT?!” Severus yelled in shock. He nearly dropped the jar of salve. Hermione laughed aloud.



“After spending a month alone with the woman I consider to be my sister, and who saved the wizarding world, I insist you marry her.” Harry was tapping his wand in the palm of his hand, smiling.



“Bloody right, mate.” Ron’s wand was clenched in his fist. The tall redhead was glaring at his former potions master with a strange mix of determination and distaste. “You’re the one she wants, and you made it so you’re the only one she can have, so you’ll do right by my best friend.”



“In that case,” Severus said, his lips twisting in a small smirk. From one hand he pulled his Slytherin ring, worn by the Head of House. Grasping her hand, he slid it onto her left middle finger so that the serpent’s crest resized itself to fit her. “I believe this is the first time that ring has ever been worn by a Gryffindor. And it has never looked better.” Looking into her warm brown eyes, he brushed a kiss over her knuckles. With a nod to the younger men, he led his witch out and up the stairs to their isolation suite.



Ron looked over at Harry. “You don‘t have any doubts about them?”



“Nope.” Harry tucked his wand back up his sleeve and sat down heavily. He was still recovering from the stasis. “She wants him, she trusts him enough to take that bloody potion in the first place, and he took it to be with her. Let them have the honeymoon before the ceremony, who cares? They’re in love, Ol‘ Moldy-warts is dead, and your Mum gets to plan a wedding for the ‘Saviors of the Wizarding World‘. Works for me.”



“Fair enough, Harry.” Ron sighed, “What’s for lunch?”



Finis.



******

A/N: It could be said that I have a bizarre sort of mind. Hope you liked it. =)