Hypnos

Chapter 8


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.

~

Slowly, Lupin knelt back and rolled his sleeve back into place. “Well, I suppose you would have learnt about it sooner or later.” He got to his feet and offered her his hand to help her up. She recoiled, flabbergasted.

“Remus, you’re… you’re a Death Eater?”

“No, I just thought it would make a cool tattoo.” He puffed a strand of hair off his forehead. “Of course I am a Death Eater, Hermione. Don’t be daft.”

“But… but… how did you…” She struggled for words, the shock overpowering her capacity to form coherent sentences. “But what about Harry?” she blurted at last.

A pall of regret seemed to fall across Lupin’s handsome features. “I love Harry, Hermione, you know I do. But sometimes… sometimes there are things that are stronger than one’s principles and loyalties.” He looked up. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

She scrambled to her feet. “What the hell are you talking about? You are betraying everybody who loves you and all they stand for. Harry. Dumbledore. James and Lily Potter. Sirius. Sirius died for nothing?” She glared at him as he visibly flinched at the latter name. “What on earth could possibly be worth that?”

Lupin stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then sighed. “Gods, Hermione, but you can be thick at times. What could be worth that?” He looked at her in the eye. “Why, you, of course.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. This is not happening. This can’t be happening.

But it seemed to. “I’ve been… well, lusting for you for years, even when you were still in school. I… I want you so much, Hermione, it’s insane. Really. I’m a man obsessed. Turning into a wolf every fortnight is pretty bearable, compared to this.” His expression grew grim. “And all you could think about was that greasy git. Oh yes,” he added as he saw the expression on her face, “I suppose you thought you were quite good at the angsty, secret passion thing. But it was so obvious, it was disgusting.”

He snorted. “I know what Severus thinks about my wizarding capabilities. But I wasn’t made DADA teacher for nothing, you know – I’m not bad at Legilimency myself. Plus, being a werewolf does give you an… unusual perspective on things.” He started moving towards her, and for a fraction of a second Hermione thought that she could see the wolf lurking in him, the baring of fangs in his incipient snarl. The musk of his pheromones wafting across the room.

He was ravenous.

“Do you know what it was like to go on, day after day, smelling your cunt and not being able to touch it? Smelling how your cunt melted every time Snape was near and how it could have been a little girl’s when you stood by my side?” He had advanced towards her, and she had stepped back until eventually she had met the hard side of a table blocking her retreat. He sniffed her. He drew his nose close and actually sniffed her body.

“Just as I smell your fear now, Hermione. But nothing more.” He moved his mouth towards her ear, and hissed, “I know he too frightens you. What does he do that turns you on so much?” He grabbed a fistful of her blouse and wrung it in fury and frustration. “Why the fuck can’t you desire me?”

He looked as though he might hit her at any moment. Or eat her. She had never been so terrified in her life.

“I’ve only become a Death Eater for your sake, Hermione. Honestly, I don’t care anymore whether you want me or not. All I want is to sate this hunger.” He took a deep breath and seemed to try and calm himself. “When this war’s over, you’re going to be mine, Hermione – in a very literal sense. I suppose you’ll get used to being with me, eventually. I’m not really a bad person, you know. Gods know I’ll treat you better than that bastard.”

“I happen to want that bastard,” she murmured, surprising herself.

Lupin seemed amused in his bitterness. “Well, it really doesn’t matter, you know. He’s in for it. As soon as Voldemort wins the war – and believe me, he is going to win, and pretty soon at that – Snape will be as good as mincemeat. I only hope I will be allowed to do the mincing myself.”

Hermione suddenly had a horrible thought. “You… you were already with Voldemort when I was…?”

He laughed. “But of course, silly. You don’t think Voldemort bought for a moment that story about your having realised that the Dark Arts were the true core of wizarding and that… what was it?… that you wished to ‘cleanse your filthy muggle blood by devoting yourself to the Dark Lord’?” He smiled. “You’re delightful, Hermione. Thinking that naïve bullshit would work with Voldemort.”

“He thought it might be useful to keep you about, though, filling you full of crap which you would then diligently pass on to Dumbledore. Also, I think it amused him to have a little puritan like yourself around, constantly trying to conceal your disgust. And failing miserably. Hermione – did’t anybody ever tell you that you are a terrible actress?”

“Voldemort used you, dear. As he used Snape in his time. As he uses me. As Dumbledore is using you.” He paused. “All the choice we have is whom to be used by. And I have made my choice – I betray Dumbledore and get you in exchange.”

“So I am to be your prize,” she said. “Your reward for services rendered.”

“Exactly. And now, I’m afraid we’ll have to get packing, Hermione. We can’t Apparate from here with Albus’s damn wards.” He saw her glance towards the door, and with a swift movement drew out his wand and cast a shutting spell. “I’m sorry it has to be this way. I really am.” He turned the wand towards her and muttered, “Imperio.”


~~~~~

He pulled her by the hand across the snowed fields towards the gates. She didn’t care. She didn’t not care. In her daze, she could hear the conflicting voices in her mind, trapped inside her unresisting body, alternately spurring her on and despairing.

Come on, Hermione. You know the Imperio can be resisted… You’ve been trained to do it. You’ve got to break out of this. You’ve got to kick this bastard in the balls.

I can’t. It’s no use. He’s stronger than me. I’m a weakling. A failure.

You’ve got to do it, girl.

Who cares? I might as well have jumped out of that window. Let Lupin fuck my brains out if he wants to.

It’s not only Lupin who’s going to fuck you, you know. Do you think Malfoy would skip the chance of banging you up the arse?

Whatever.

You’ve got to take your life back, Hermione.

No, I don’t.

Remember who you are.

A sacrifice. A human sacrifice, willing or not. I’m tired of being laid on altar after altar and gutted. Let me bleed to death once and for all.

Finally they arrived at the gates. Lupin tried to shake them open, but they didn’t budge.

“Alohomora.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work, Wolfgang,” came a voice from behind them. “We have strengthened the wards. And Dumbledore’s called the Ministry.”

Lupin turned around. The Potions Master was standing with his arms crossed, a black pillar of determination against the white ground.

“It’s over, Remus.”

With a howl, Lupin pushed Hermione aside and flung himself upon Snape. They both fell to the ground, a tangle of fury and frenzied hatred.

Come on, Hermione. Get a grip.

I can’t. This is none of my business.

Lupin put his hand in his pocket and drew out his wand. “Avada Kedav…”

“Useless,” panted Snape, kicking him back with a booted foot. “I told you we strengthened the wards. No wands.” He leapt to his feet and smirked darkly. “It’s you and me, Wolfgang.”

They hurled at each other once again like wild beasts, clawing and hissing and foaming at the mouth. Lupin lunged. Snape parried, and struck back. Lupin leapt at him, and bit into his shoulder. Snape turned around and hurled him off with a shout.

And all the while Hermione stood by, impassive as the two men fought over her. Frozen.

Move.

I am not alive.

I am not dead, either.

They grappled again, rolling on the crisp whiteness, leaving a trail of blood and soiled snow. They sprung apart, then leapt up again.

Then suddenly, Snape trod on an icy patch and fell on his back.

With a snarl of triumph, Lupin hurled himself at him and thumped him on the chest, with a horrible crack of broken ribs. Snape groaned in agony, and lay vulnerable and impotent as Lupin leant over him for the last time.

“Looks like the wolf eats the snake,” he growled, baring his teeth. And moved back to deal the final blow to the head.

“Wrong. Looks like the lioness eats the wolf.”

Lupin looked up in astonishment: “What the…?”. And never got to finish the sentence as Hermione drove a dead-on kick at his solar plexus. He keeled over, breathless, curled up in a ball of pain.

Snape looked up in astonishment, too. But he did manage to finish the sentence: “What the fuck…?”

“Precisely,” replied a flushed Hermione. “I think I got a bit tired of men taking charge of me.” She smiled. “At least, for today.”