Secrets held

Confrontations

Hermione answered the door and George burst in and embraced her. “You had me rather worried there for a bit,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she answered. It was meant, and taken, as a blanket statement. Hermione freshened up for dinner while George waited in comfortable silence. “I suppose I’m as ready as I can be, for this,” she said at last.

“It’ll be alright. What could go wrong?” he teased.

George and Hermione entered the Great Hall together arm in arm. One large table had been set up for the teachers and guests, and only three empty seats remained. The couple settled into two of them, across from Minerva and Poppy. Albus continued the conversation they had interrupted.

“He only remrs vrs vague images from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, but his memories from before then seem intact,” Albus said.

Minerva nodded her head gravely. Pouring tea, she asked, “I feared as much. So what’s to be done about it? Has Poppy a restorative, or perhaps a charm?”

The headmaster sighed heavily before Poppy could answer. His eyes remained locked on Hermione as he answered, “I’m afraid not. He’ll have to recover his memories naturally. Hopefully soon, for your sake, Hermione. I was counting on his remembering the spell he cast to find a way to sever your connection to him once and for all. We tried to find it, but just haven’t been able to yet. Severus was well read, in the kinds of spells that rarely make it into books I might have here. Until he remembers, I’m afraid you will have to stay here with him.”

Hermione’s face clouded. The protection spell, is that what bound her to him? She wasn’t so sure. She found herself once again nearly beside herself with anger and frustration. All during her long talk with Minerva she was beginning to get the feeling that her new powers had more to do with it than any spell. Worse, it was a subject for which there existed almost NO reading material. She had finally found a subject she had to feel her way through; she couldn’t study up on it.

“Prof… Albus, are you sure it’s the spell causing this? Could it be, possibly, something else? A result of my crsatrsations with Severus perhaps?” her face was mild, but her voice was laced with anger.

“Hermione, much happened between you in those few days. But I feel strongly that all this is from the spell, and that we need Severus to remember it. The students arrive tomorrow, and I was hoping we could all meet in one last attempt to force the issue.” Albus said.

‘Why won’t he even consider my opinion?’ she thought to herself. Looking to Poppy and Minerva, Hermione realized she wasn’t alone in her disagreement. “All of us? Are you sure that’s wise? I’ve a feeling that Severus might resent that,” she said.

“Albus seems to feel it’s worth making enemies to make him well,” Poppy spat out.

“Not to mention involving young Mister Weasley here, as well,” Minerva added sweetly. The look in her eyes was anything but amused.

“George! But whatever for?”

“Hermione, it seems that George has a great deal to do with matters. I think it is quite appropriate that he be present to give his account of your final rescue,” Albus answered, returning Minerva’s sidelong glance.

Hermione was nearly bursting with indignant fury. She was nearly resigned to the state of her own predicament; the idea that George might be dragged into the whole mess was just too much to bear. George was attempting to quiet her and assure her that he was fine with the plan when Severus finally entered the hall.

He stalked to the empty seat next to Hermione with a determined scowl. For a moment she was flooded with the relief of seeing him whole and outwardly his old self. She could almost believe that maybe none of it had ever happened, when he spoke.

“So, surround me with meddlesome house elves, is that the plan?”

“Severus, they were merely told to help you in whatever you required until you felt a bit stronger.”

The dark man scoffed at that, but any retort he kept to himself. He was almost shaking with the effort of keeping his tongue, and both Poppy and Minerva seemed aware of his obvious distress as they both attempted to fill his cup at once. He waved the teapot away with a flip of one trembling hand.

A few minutes later most of the odd party fell into silent perusal of their meals, if not actually eating. The other half of the table was babbling away in anticipation of the return to classes, but a few Professohot hot knowing glances toward the tense crowd on the end and snuck looks at Hermione when they thought she wasn’t watching.

Finally Hermione broke the tense silence. “What time tomorrow is this meeting then?”

“Just after breakfast I should think, we haven’t much time before the students arrive.”

“What meeting?” Severus asked. He knew this had been a ploy, and now came the plot.

Albus explained that they planned to prod his memory tomorrow. “Prod? Why not just tell me what happened? Another game instead, of course. Why not now, then? Just get all this over with, amuse the remainder of the staff at the same time. Or perhaps there is more sport in watching me stew in madness a while first?” Severus barked.

“Game indeed, but you are not the only piece being shoved about the board, Professor,” Hermione scoffed.

“Miss Granger, I’ll thank you to stay out of my affairs.”

“I’m afraid Miss Granger is quite a large part of this matter, and will be staying with us until it is resolved,” Minerva offered. “She cannot leave until it is.”

Severus narrowed his eyes first at one witch and then the other. Finally he turned his scrutiny to Poppy, “I suppose you know all about this?”

“Severus please calm down, the headmaster has assured us that you will get all the answers you want tomorrow, and not before.”

But he never heard her. Hermione had begun to rise from the table, pulling at George’s arm and swaying on fee feet. For the briefest moment she rested her hand on Severus’ shoulder and his mind went blank. “Severus, I’ll speak to you tomorrow. I think I need a bit of fresh air, George?” was all she could manage.

George made their excuses and led her from the room.


*
*


Snape stormed from the hall in a swirl of robes, stalking a hot path to the dungeons. ‘Damned that old fool, and damned Her, as well!’ he thought. He couldn’t find a single excuse not to wait as they had demanded, nor could he explain why he was so impatient. What seemed so clear in his mind alone in his rooms was instantly murky in Her presence. Now that she was no longer near him, questions flooded his mind once more.

“Sodding Granger, of all people,” he snapped aloud. ‘Why Her, and why couldn’t she leave?’ It was the question most often stuck in his mind, the one he determined to get an answer to. ‘And the Weasley boy, surely he could leave. Sooner the better, as ,’ h,’ he thought. But that thought he attempted to quash, he couldn’t possibly care how close the boy had been sitting to Her, could he?

No, of course not. Another one of her tricks, he was sure. Frustration washed over him in vicious waves. He decided to get some answers tonight; he turned up the passage towards her rooms. A plan lay itself open to him, wait outside her door for her to return from her walk. Once he had Her alone, he’d get his answers.


*
*

George escorted her back to her rooms in silence. Though at first the passage seemed empty, she halted, the back of her hand pressed to George’s chest. Snape stepped from the shadows and addressed this hand with a determined eye, “A word, if you will, Miss Granger.”

“Let us pass, Professor. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, just as I said earlier,” she answered with a frosty tone. Snape didn’t move. “George, I believe I’ll say goodnight now,” she began, and then turned to face him. “I’ve had a lovely visit and again thank you for everything.” The tone of her voice was back to the same playfulness she usually graced him with. He bowed low, and kissed her hand before leaving, watching both of them until far out of his sight. George went straight for Dumbledore to let him know where thtientient was.

“So, what is it then?” she asked. He merely stared at her for several moments, then closed the gap between them. At this distance she could she mhe muscles in his face working to keep his face passive, unreadable. She also was forced to look up at him. She stepped back, leaned her tired back against the wall for support and broke the silence once more, “Severus please, let me pass. I’m tired, and you should be in bed as well.”

He struggled to retain his composure. Faced with the sight of her, the closeness of her, he fought the inexplicable urge to abandon his search for answers and simply grab her. Also, the notion she would be alone proving false was threatening his grip on his anger. “What exactly does that boy mean to you?” he asked. He hadn’t meant to open with that.

Bristled for a fight now, she folded her arms across her chest. It took every ounce of her energy to follow Dumledore’s advice and keep her tongue. “Noat’sat’s it your business, but he’s been a very good friend to me. Is that all you wanted to ask me?” she fired back.

“No. I want to know what you aren’t telling me. What did she mean, ‘she cannot leave until this is resolved’?” he was clearly trying to be direct. His previous frustration was dissolving, being replaced by something…familiar. Something that tugged at him and evoked possession.

“I have promised to leave that to Dumbledore to explain to you tomorrow. I d und understand it all myself. And he assures me that my answers might cause further problems for you,” her voice sounded hollow in her head. She felt the first pangs of guilt, the overwhelming need to reach for him, sooth him, show him.

Another uneasy silence. The pull between them began to grow. She struggled between the need for him, and the need to get away. But she was determined not to lose a battle of wits with him tonight. She would lose enough tomorrow.

“I want to hear your answers, Miss Granger. Why can’t you leave the castle?” he asked at last. Blunt, to the point, it seemed an important detail to him. He couldn’t sleep until he knew, her vigil, her continued presence here, haunting him… the dreams.

“You aren’t asking the correct questions, Professor. Let me ask, why is that teacup so important to you?” she smiled at him. If he wouldn’t be honest with her about what he remembered in the dungeons together, perhaps she could clear up some nagging questions of her own.

“It isn’t important,” he lied. He didn’t want to start this conversation with her. “You know where it came from. I could ask why you wear that charm.” He managed a convincing sneer.

She touched the small necklace. Taking her opportunity she looked him in the eyes, “a friend made this for me. I wear it for two reasons; to remind me of him, and to remind me to ask why it was a goodbye present.” The brutal honesty of her statement was softened by the open invitation in her eyes. Answer truth for truth it begged.

“I fear you took it to mean more than that,” he answered with entirely more feeling than he wished to betray. He felt nearly unhinged in her presence. Her relaxed pose, the look of her hand on that Weasley boy’s chest, the mystery of her hair and eyes all threatened to pull him a wit with rage.

“I did no such thing, Professor. We were friends, the sooner you admit at least that point, the sooner this will resolve itself. Lik or or not, we are in this mess together,” she snapped. He inched forward, and she slid farther down the hall, though she wanted desperately to let him reach her.

“Friends?” he scoffed. “I thought so oncelievlieved your intentions were guileless. A pleasant distraction from the tension of those days. But your presence here these last months led me to other conclusions. So I’ll ask you again, why won’t you leave here? Life debt aside, because you and I both know that doesn’t require you to remain languishing at my bedside, now does it?”

She laughed in his face. Before he could even begin to react, she turned a teasing voice on him, “is that all you think this is? That I’d managed some sort of crush on you then? Saw your illness as what, an opportunity to reel you in? That I’ve put my life on hold for two months to convince you of your error. No, professor. Afraid it doesn’t all wash out that easy. We were just friends. I took your rejection of that without a trace of regret. My purpose had always been simply to let you know that friends were nice things to have, and could be counted on face value. In return I found you pleasant company. That is not what this is about.”

“Miss Granger, spare me our list of commonalities. I’m sure you believe we are so very similar…”

“I assure you, Professor,” she cut him, ne, nearly hissing, “we are nothing alike. Our current crisis does not stem from our being of the same ilk. If you don’t fancy my answers, stop asking questions.”

He stared for a moment, at a loss for words. To the casual observer, neither of them had moved at all. But the standoff had taken a critical turn, and they both sensed it. He shifted forward imperceptibly, relaxed his hands and lowered his gaze ominously. In response she had drawn herself a hair taller, body poised for reaction. As the moment stretched out beyond her grasp, she had a vision of them poised on the edge of a sword suspended over a precipice. Step off, and plunge into the abyss. Remain, and slowly sink onto the blade.

To make matters worse, she could feel her will, the buried and carefully controlled secret voice, screaming to be let at him. He was her saviour, her soul mate, chosen for only her. ‘Mine,’ it screamed, not to be denied. It writhed through her consciousness, bursting at the bonds she had conjured for it. Obviously distracted by her inner struggle he pounced before she could elude him.

He leapt at her, trapping her, one hand against the wall at either side of her face. His body pulled taut as a bowstring, held just far enough away not to touch her, but every inch of her bathed in his heat. Nearly panting, his heart pong, ng, he whispered into her hair, “What curse is this, woman. What are you playing at? You might recall that I’m not a man to toy with.”

She held her breath, afraid to speak as the inner voice was straining with delight right on the surface of her voice. Unable to control herself, she turned her face up into his neck, growling onto his skin, brushing it with her lips. He shuddered from the momentary contact. Recovering briefly, she replied, “This is not game nor curse. Now would be a very good time to let me pass,” she said through clenched teeth. She was nearly shaking with the effort to keep her hands on the stone she was leaning against. After a heartbeat more, he finally dropped one arm and she ran into her rooms.

He was still standing there when Albus finally spoke, “She’s right, Severus, you are not asking the right questions.”

“And what, sir, is it I was supposed to be learning from that exchange, or what you heard of it,” he retorted.

“That you shouldn’t have been here at all never crossed your mind? I believe I’ve made it clear what you are supposed to be learning. The sooner you regain your memories in full, the easier for all of us,” Albus said. He began to walk toward the dungeons, drawing Snape with him firmly. “Severus please, take the draught Poppy gave you and get a good night’s rest.\"


A/N- Sorry for the delay, new chapters will be faster.