Hypnos

Chapter 7


DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Reviews are welcome.

~

Of course, he hadn’t told them all he had seen inside Hermione’s unconscious mind, despite Lupin’s persistent – and extremely annoying – inquisitiveness. No, he had just given them what they had asked for, all the information potentially relevant to Voldemort’s plans, anything which might serve to anticipate his next move. The troubling rest he had kept to himself.

So she loved him. Her final panting, desperate confession had come in the last throes of the interrogation, when she was saturated with the drug and the drug-enhanced ecstasy he was inflicting on her, and her mind teetered – once again – on the verge of breakdown. Where he had repeatedly led her throughout the night.

After establishing the facts about the Revel, he had gone on to more personal matters. He could have stopped then, but hadn’t. He told himself it was just thoroughness, he just didn’t want to leave any loose threads. But he knew perfectly well he had penetrated the innermost part of her mind, her most intimate needs and compulsions and desires, because of the sheer pleasure of it. Because he enjoyed his power over her. To know her carnally, intimately as no one else possibly could. To possess her completely.

He had asked her, over and over and over, between clenched teeth as he delayed his own release the longer to stretch her torture, why she had become a Death Eater. Her refusal to give him an answer that afternoon had piqued his curiosity, and now, as she persisted in her muteness even as she lay subjugated to the mandrake and his body and her own piercing pleasure, the question burnt foremost in his intent. He prodded her on, ceaselessly, tirelessly, having no regard ll fll for her fear and anguish. And then, when it seemed that he wouldn’t be able to delve any further into her, he drew back slightly and struck, reaching unerringly into her desiring core so that her body thrashed up into a spasming arc, and she finally screamed it out.

He was so stunned by the sudden revelation, and the images in her mind which suddenly came rushing through, that he would have stopped dead on his tracks right then had not his self-control broken loose at last and sent him into one long, bursting, blinding orgasm.

She loved him. Not only desired him – that had been quite clear to him since he perceived her arousal during their session together. He could see her desire for him written all over her body, could smell her yearning as she placed herself in his hands and submitted to his will. He had attributed the surprising promptness and ease with which she had accepted his dominant position to the deep-rootedness of her submissive tendencies. Yet it was not that she had long yearned for a Master. It was that she had long yearned to have him for a Master - aentlently, no other would do. For she loved him.

The enormity of it was staggering. He leant against the wall for a moment, still stunned. Gods. And to think I never saw in all these years…

And he could have seen. All the telling signs throughout the years rushed now to his mind: the longing looks during the meals at Hogwarts, her persistent requests for his help despite his cruel tongue-lashings, her repeated offers of assistance in his work, the odd, shy letters which she had sent him sporadically during her first years at Oxford, and which he had regularly tossed to the waste paper basket after glancing perfunctorily over them.

He made his way down the corridors towards the nursing ward, hoping to – what? Ask for her forgiveness? For what? For torturing and raping her unwittingly last week, or three years ago? (Though in order to apologize for this he would have to tell her first, of course. That was going to be tricky). For repeating the same process the night before, only this time with him being quite aware of it? For being an utter git and not having noticed her feelings for him in sixteen years? He was wondering how to start when he opened the door to her room, only to find her empty, intact bed.

“Looking for Hermione, Severus?” asked Madame Pomfrey behind him. She gave him a stern look. “She didn’t spend the night here, as you can see. I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

Irritated at not finding her and at the mediwitch’s meddling, he lashed back: “That’s none of your business, Poppy. Surprising as the news may be to you, you are not supposed to pry into your patients’ personal lives. Much less divulge gossip about them as you seem to be so fond of doing.”

“What are you talking about, Severus?” blanched the mediwitch. “I thought you might have stretched those sessions you’re having with Hermione for too long, and she might have stayed at your rooms for the night. I would never dare…”

“Well, don’t,” snapped back Snape. “You already did your fair bit of gossiping about Miss Granger for the time being, I should think.”

“Severus, have you gone mad? What are you talking about? What gossiping?”

Snape let out a tired snort. “Come on, Poppy. You told the members of the staff about Hermione’s choking during our session. Then Lupin went and almost broke my jaw.”

Madame Pomfrey stiffened with indignation. “Well, Severus, I certainly never told anybody about Hermione’s choking except you and Dumbledore, of course. I suppose it must have been Albus who told Remus, because I would never dream of…”

But Snape was no longer listening to her. He had already stormed out of the nursing ward and was running like a madman towards Dumbledore’s rooms.


~~~~~


“What’s the matter, Remus?” asked a weary Hermione as he shut the door behind him. He had asked her to come with him to his office, refusing to tell her what he wanted to tell her until they got there.

“Hermione, there’s something you need to know about Snape. I asked you to come because I’d rather you heard it from me than from anyone else – least of all from him.”

He motioned her to take a seat. “What is it?” she said in an unsteady voice as she sank into a chair. She wasn’t really sure she could take any more today.

“Hermione, the man you saw at the Dark Revel was Snape. He just confessed down there.” Before she could say anything, he went on: “But what I wanted to tell you is that it was also him who was responsible for what happened to you.”

Hermione had gone extremely white. “Responsible? You mean…?”

“He raped you.”

Something shattered then inside Hermione. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t react in any ostensible way. Her numbed mind registered something like a prick of pain, and she knew, with a strange lucidity, that at some point afterwards the hurt would be devastating. The extent of her loss lay before her intellect, clear like a field in the sun. Yet her emotions seemed to have disappeared completely.

She didn’t even notice that Remus had gone down on his knees in front of her and was trying to comfort her in some way – she couldn’t hear what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all.

“… You know you can trust me, Hermione. You have always confided in me, you know I’ll always be here by your side. You’re not alone, dear…” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead as she finally began to understand, and the tears came again.

She slumped to the floor, her weak body no longer able even to sit up, and Remus held her as the sobs racked her.

“It’s all right, it’s all right… Everything’s going to be all right, baby… Hush…” He hugged her close to his body, and she sobbed one last, harrowing time, and allowed the lesser pain of realization to flow down her face.

He smiled as he saw her calming down, and buried his nose in her hair beneath him. “That’s better, baby… It’s all going to turn out well, you’ll see… And you need not be alone any more. I’ll be right here with you… Hermione, you’re such a wonderful woman… and you have such a wonderful life ahead of you… You’ll see… I… I…”

She pulled slightly apart to look into his face, which was overcome with emotion. “Oh, Remus,” she whispered.

He looked down to avert her gaze, and Hermione placed her hand on his arm to comfort him as much as to steady herself. He looked up again, met her eyes. And kissed her.

She pulled back as if stung, but he held on to her, gripping her by the shoulders. She pushed him away, grabbing his wrists and trying to force his arms back. Then Lupin suddenly broke the kiss and let her go, and her hands, still pushing, slid all the way down his forearms, pulling back the sleeves of his shirt and jacket to the elbow.

She would have screamed, but didn’t. She just sat back on her heels, in stunned silence.

Staring at the Dark Mark on his arm.