Repeat as Needed
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,335
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,335
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter et al belongs to JKRowling, not me. I make no money from writing this, just some deviant fun.
Cruel and Unusual Punishment
Cruel and Unusual Punishment
A one shot by Voracious Reader
A/N: Just another bizarre little scenario that invaded my head. My plot bunnies are mean little buggers.
*****
The war was over, although Voldemort was technically still alive. Severus Snape stood in the heavily warded room in the hospital wing of Azkaban Wizarding Prison and looked at the slightly twitching form of the former Dark Lord and smirked to himself.
Yes, the halfblood once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, but would never be able to cause trouble again, his ambitions brought down by a clever and exceptionally devious curse devised by a muggle born witch named Hermione Granger. Snape frowned; he hadn’t known Gryffindors could be so subtle or so vicious.
Snape checked the clipboard from the foot of the bed; the prisoner’s vital signs were within normal range, although there was considerable brain activity, most of it in the midbrain, and the dreaming centers. The near-constant twitching was merely a side effect, although it gave the impression that the deformed dark wizard was writhing in agony. The potions master shrugged; served the bastard right.
Hermione had been doing research on the Horcruxes when she had an epiphany: if love was inimical to the Dark Lord, then love could be turned into a weapon against him. She had spent weeks locked in the Black family library alone, only allowing Kreacher in to bring her food from time to time. The rest of the Order had become alarmed, but when Ron had tried to make her rest, he had been blasted out of the library door to slam into the wall opposite and the door had locked behind him.
Harry had levitated his unconscious friend to his room, saying ‘Idiot should have known better than to interrupt her when she’s working.”
“Do you know what she is working on, Potter?” Snape had asked. He had no interest in Mr. Weasley’s injuries, the boy was still breathing, after all. His black eyes focused on the sealed doors with curiosity.
“Something rather nasty,” Potter’s grin showed his teeth. “Professor, I need you to show me how to create a set of internal mind shields, something that can block a memory off from the rest of my consciousness. Hermione says it’s necessary to keep me safe from what we’re going to do to Voldemort.”
It was an advanced healing technique, used for cases of mental trauma when the victim could not face a memory. If the shield was strong enough, the most traumatic of memories could be inaccessible.
“Very well,” Snape had sighed irritably. “Do try to learn something this time, Potter. I have no wish to anger Miss Granger.”
Five weeks later Potter’s shields were strong enough to keep even a Legilimens as strong as Dumbledore locked away and Hermione was walking around singing under her breath before she also managed to lock shields into her psyche.
Her research had borne diabolical fruit, indeed.
Potter had used Occlumency and meditation to strengthen his connection to Voldemort into a one-way link, allowing him to feed things into the Dark Lord’s mind while he slept. After all, if it worked for the Dark Lord, there was no reason it couldn’t work for Potter, was there?
Night after night, according to a slowly escalating schedule devised by Granger, Potter implanted suggestions into Voldemort’s mind, along with a dormant curse. It was set to be activated by a trigger phrase, and the threat of the madman would be ended forever.
During a Death Eater meeting, it had ironically been Lucius Malfoy that had made the comment that ‘World domination wasn’t that difficult, it’s a small world, after all.”
Voldemort had collapsed, his red eyes rolling back into his head as the curse activated. Snape had almost laughed out loud behind his mask.
Now Tom Riddle was trapped deep in his own mind, unable to escape. There was no counter-curse. There was no potion to end it, there was no cure. It was irrevocable and permanent until the day he died. He would be surrounded by images of love and light and sweetness forever. It was as close to his own private hell as could be devised.
Of course, since there were five existing Horcruxes, each time he died it would simply start over.
Hermione was a dangerous woman indeed, but he liked that about her. He had every intention of wooing the brilliant former student away from the red-headed swot and making her his own; it was a precautionary measure, really. If he was able to gain her affections it would prevent her from trying something like that on him someday.
Severus hung the clipboard at the foot of the bed; his inspection was over. He turned and rapped sharply on the locked door of the cell-come-treatment room for the guard to let him out.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Snape thought he heard a faint, high-pitched singing coming from the prisoner on the bed.
‘…It’s a small world after all…It’s a small world after all…”
Snape shuddered reflexively. He must be careful not to anger her; perhaps dinner at La Cucina was in order, as well as an appropriate gift when he saw her next. He would think on it and find something she would like. There was no point in taking risks with the woman he intended to marry.
*****
A/N: Evil, no? :X
A one shot by Voracious Reader
A/N: Just another bizarre little scenario that invaded my head. My plot bunnies are mean little buggers.
*****
The war was over, although Voldemort was technically still alive. Severus Snape stood in the heavily warded room in the hospital wing of Azkaban Wizarding Prison and looked at the slightly twitching form of the former Dark Lord and smirked to himself.
Yes, the halfblood once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle was still alive, but would never be able to cause trouble again, his ambitions brought down by a clever and exceptionally devious curse devised by a muggle born witch named Hermione Granger. Snape frowned; he hadn’t known Gryffindors could be so subtle or so vicious.
Snape checked the clipboard from the foot of the bed; the prisoner’s vital signs were within normal range, although there was considerable brain activity, most of it in the midbrain, and the dreaming centers. The near-constant twitching was merely a side effect, although it gave the impression that the deformed dark wizard was writhing in agony. The potions master shrugged; served the bastard right.
Hermione had been doing research on the Horcruxes when she had an epiphany: if love was inimical to the Dark Lord, then love could be turned into a weapon against him. She had spent weeks locked in the Black family library alone, only allowing Kreacher in to bring her food from time to time. The rest of the Order had become alarmed, but when Ron had tried to make her rest, he had been blasted out of the library door to slam into the wall opposite and the door had locked behind him.
Harry had levitated his unconscious friend to his room, saying ‘Idiot should have known better than to interrupt her when she’s working.”
“Do you know what she is working on, Potter?” Snape had asked. He had no interest in Mr. Weasley’s injuries, the boy was still breathing, after all. His black eyes focused on the sealed doors with curiosity.
“Something rather nasty,” Potter’s grin showed his teeth. “Professor, I need you to show me how to create a set of internal mind shields, something that can block a memory off from the rest of my consciousness. Hermione says it’s necessary to keep me safe from what we’re going to do to Voldemort.”
It was an advanced healing technique, used for cases of mental trauma when the victim could not face a memory. If the shield was strong enough, the most traumatic of memories could be inaccessible.
“Very well,” Snape had sighed irritably. “Do try to learn something this time, Potter. I have no wish to anger Miss Granger.”
Five weeks later Potter’s shields were strong enough to keep even a Legilimens as strong as Dumbledore locked away and Hermione was walking around singing under her breath before she also managed to lock shields into her psyche.
Her research had borne diabolical fruit, indeed.
Potter had used Occlumency and meditation to strengthen his connection to Voldemort into a one-way link, allowing him to feed things into the Dark Lord’s mind while he slept. After all, if it worked for the Dark Lord, there was no reason it couldn’t work for Potter, was there?
Night after night, according to a slowly escalating schedule devised by Granger, Potter implanted suggestions into Voldemort’s mind, along with a dormant curse. It was set to be activated by a trigger phrase, and the threat of the madman would be ended forever.
During a Death Eater meeting, it had ironically been Lucius Malfoy that had made the comment that ‘World domination wasn’t that difficult, it’s a small world, after all.”
Voldemort had collapsed, his red eyes rolling back into his head as the curse activated. Snape had almost laughed out loud behind his mask.
Now Tom Riddle was trapped deep in his own mind, unable to escape. There was no counter-curse. There was no potion to end it, there was no cure. It was irrevocable and permanent until the day he died. He would be surrounded by images of love and light and sweetness forever. It was as close to his own private hell as could be devised.
Of course, since there were five existing Horcruxes, each time he died it would simply start over.
Hermione was a dangerous woman indeed, but he liked that about her. He had every intention of wooing the brilliant former student away from the red-headed swot and making her his own; it was a precautionary measure, really. If he was able to gain her affections it would prevent her from trying something like that on him someday.
Severus hung the clipboard at the foot of the bed; his inspection was over. He turned and rapped sharply on the locked door of the cell-come-treatment room for the guard to let him out.
As the heavy door closed behind him, Snape thought he heard a faint, high-pitched singing coming from the prisoner on the bed.
‘…It’s a small world after all…It’s a small world after all…”
Snape shuddered reflexively. He must be careful not to anger her; perhaps dinner at La Cucina was in order, as well as an appropriate gift when he saw her next. He would think on it and find something she would like. There was no point in taking risks with the woman he intended to marry.
*****
A/N: Evil, no? :X