Twenty-three for Pain

Chapter 30: Twenty-three for Pain

Lucius straightened and pulled Hermione from the desk. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said to Snape. "I came for a drink but stayed for the show."

"I trust you have finished here, and we may return to the business at hand?"

"Almost," he said. "You're just in time for the grand finale."

"You must know I have never shared your affinity for melodrama."

"Ah, but this is the best part," he said, "wherein our tragic heroine discovers the ultimate betrayal at the hands of her lover."

"Severus?" she whispered.

For the first time since he'd entered the office, he looked at her...really looked at her...and she trembled at what she found in his eyes.

It's an act. She told herself he was playing a part, just as she had when she'd tried to steal her wand. He was simply a much finer actor than she.

"Tell her what you've done, Severus," Lucius said. "Show the clever girl how wisely she bestowed her love."

"Very well." He crossed the room, and she searched his face for something...concern, regret, disappointment...anything beyond the cold disgust.

He stood before her, lips peeled back from his teeth. "You have caused me nothing but misery since the first day you entered my life."

"No." She blinked away the tears that sprung to her eyes. A jagged blade ripped through her skull.

"Did you honestly think I had grown to care for you?" His eyes burned into her, held her captive.

She couldn't look away, and although she hadn't summoned it, the silver mare pranced through her mind.

"I would rather a lifetime of abstinence than have you sully my bed any longer," he said.

"Severus, please," she begged, "don't do this."

Somewhere behind her, Lucius clapped his hands together. She hardly heard. Memories flew through her mind, snapshots from their time together, random images that hit her so fast she felt dizzy. She heard herself speak of love beneath the horse chestnut tree, saw herself cradle the book she'd received from her study group, felt his arms wound tightly around her as they fell asleep each night, limbs entwined.

"Your heritage, while repulsive, is but one of your many objectionable facets," he said. "Even without your inferior breeding, your personality renders you intolerable."

The scenes that bounced through her mind were so wholly at odds with everything he said that each memory brought more pain than the last until she was certain her head would burst apart.

"Your very presence is a disgrace to the world of magic," he said. "You are unworthy to call yourself a witch. Your skills are mediocre, your intelligence average, and I shall be relieved to rid myself of you."

Again, the silver mare appeared in her mind, and she relived the first moment she had seen it. She felt his lips, heard the words of love he'd hissed into her ear. She could no more escape the pain than she could stop the tears streaking down her face.

He whirled away, and the dagger was pulled from her head.

She tasted blood a second before she felt warmth trickle into her nose. Another second passed before comprehension dawned. The sudden, sharp pain, the parade of memories, the nosebleed: it all made sense now. She had never imagined any scenario in which she would welcome Legilimency, yet now she nearly staggered from relief. He had forced the images into her mind, had forced her to recall their most intimate moments...not to underscore her pain, but to give her something to cling to beyond the horrible words he had been forced to speak.

Lucius tugged on her hair, pulled her head back until she stared at the ceiling. "Don't even think about spilling your filthy blood on this rug." He flicked his wand at her face. Her nostrils clogged, and the skin inside her nose dried so fast she felt it crack.

"Now may we proceed?" asked Snape.

"Of course," Lucius said. He slid his arm through Hermione's and marched her towards the door.

"Perhaps you should leave her here, lest you become distracted again," Snape said.

"That won't be necessary." He patted her arm. "I find myself just as eager to conclude our business as you."

Snape shrugged and left the office ahead of them. Her eyes stayed on his back for the duration of their journey to the laboratory. He obviously had a plan, but how badly had her arrival impacted it?

She spotted the familiar leather case first, sitting empty atop one of the long, stainless steel worktables. Dozens of phials stood in racks next to the case. Across the lab, an ornate Pensieve waited beside more racks and phials. She felt Lucius's eyes on her, heard his breathing quicken, as if he awaited her outrage.

She thought it best to satisfy him. "No," she moaned. When Snape turned, she glared at him and said, "How could you, Severus? Why?"

Lucius took her to the far table and pushed her onto a stool behind the Pensieve. "He has one hundred million reasons, my dear. But we haven't time to count Galleons...we must examine the remainder of your precious memories."

Snape brought a rack of phials from beside the leather case. She watched a memory swirl into the Pensieve and waited for Lucius to be lost inside it before she spoke to Snape. His eyes widened the moment she opened her mouth, and after an almost imperceptible shake of his head, he returned to the table across the lab. She pursed her lips and vowed to remain silent.

Lucius rose from the Pensieve and smiled at her. "How does it feel to be a dying breed?"

"Return my wand, and I'll show you."

He abandoned the Pensieve and moved around the table. "Say please," he whispered, his face so close she felt his breath.

"Please."

"I didn't hear you," he said. "Say it louder."

She shook her head.

He removed her wand and held it before her, his eyebrows lifted as if in question.

"Please," she said.

His lips lifted. "Again."

She closed her eyes and wondered why she had bothered. "No."

The wand touched her forehead. "You know you want it," he whispered, his tone as suggestive as a lover's. He moved the smooth, wooden tip down her nose, then traced it around her lips. "Ask me nicely, and I just ... might ... give it to you."

Snape interrupted the response that sprang to her mouth. "Is this how you refrain from distraction?"

Lucius merely chuckled.

"I'm curious," said Snape. "Once you isolate the gene responsible for creating Muggle-borns, how will you remove it?"

"With something called gene therapy," he answered. "I don't pretend to understand it, but I'd wager our little interloper here does." He jabbed his wand into her arm.

"I'm not a geneticist," she said.

"And I am not a patient man." The tip of his wand glowed red-hot.

The information was readily available, so she cleared her throat and spoke before he could dream up new ways to hurt her. "Gene therapy is the process wherein healthy genes are used to replace non-functioning or mutant genes."

"You see that?" said Lucius. "We always knew Mudbloods were an aberration of nature, and now science has confirmed it...they come from mutant genes."

"How does it work?" Snape asked before she could object to Lucius's assessment.

She took a deep breath. "The technology is still in its infancy, but the most common delivery method is viral vector, where a virus is re-engineered to remove its harmful aspects and the gene of choice is added."

"Five points to Gryffindor," Snape said. "Continue."

She felt certain he knew all this already, but she elaborated anyway. "A virus transports its complete gene sequence...its genome...into cells when it attacks. By adding a gene to the structure of the virus, the new gene will be incorporated into the host cell for the life span of that cell. Depending on the type of virus used, if the host cell later divides, its descendants will also contain the new gene."

"We shall vaccinate all Muggles with the proper genes and ensure the end of Mudbloods forever," Lucius said.

"You can't use gene therapy for that," she protested. "It's much too dangerous. Even in small, controlled studies, there have been cases of cancer, autoimmune disease...even death...attributed to gene therapy. It cannot be deployed across a mass spectrum of the population, as you propose. The biology of each Muggle is far too unique to make it safe."

"If their biology is too weak to survive, then the world is better off without them," Lucius said. "Every Muggle shall receive this gene therapy...the benefit is the same whether they live or die."

"No!" she said. "You cannot..."

"Every Muggle in the world?" interrupted Snape. "That seems ambitious, even for you."

"Impressive, yes?" he said. "I have worked hard to ensure the supply chain is controlled by Malfoy Industries and its subsidiaries, with the aid of Disillusionment charms and a few well-placed Imperius curses, of course."

Hermione shook her head and searched for anything to contradict the madness. "Muggles vaccinate for a reason, though," she said. "Unless you introduce a new disease, you'll never convince them they need another vaccine."

"I won't have to," he countered, "thanks to our old friend, the Disillusionment charm. In Africa, my vaccine shall masquerade as the shot for yellow fever. In India, they'll believe it prevents polio. And so on and so forth across the globe."

"Let us hope you can execute as well as you boast," Snape said. "I shall remain sceptical until I see proof."

"What further proof do you require?" said Lucius. "We've been altering vaccines for years; one need only review some of the scandals reported upon by Muggle newspapers to see our handiwork. The parents blame the doctors, and the doctors, in turn, blame the manufacturer. In the end, they determine a bad batch of vaccines caused the mass side effects, and the best part is they're absolutely right. They just have no idea why."

Hermione thought of the needless pain inflicted upon so many unsuspecting families. What other atrocities had he committed in his madness?

"What have you done?" she whispered.

"What a little hypocrite you are!" Lucius said. "Would you have me believe you never infected animals in the course of your scientific experiments?"

"Of course I did." It had been the least favourite part of her job. "There is often a point when animal testing becomes necessary."

He shrugged as if she'd answered her own question.

"But you weren't infecting animals."

"Was I not?"

"They were humans," she cried. "Innocent children!" Her body shook with rage.

"They were Muggles." His lip curled as if he found the very word unpleasant. "Vile creatures, breeding out of control like a pack of filthy rats, remarkable only for how utterly unremarkable they are. They fill the air with their stench and destroy everything they touch. How could anyone regret the loss of such a nuisance? I've done the world a favour by eliminating so many. They are nothing but a pestilence. Worse than the cockroach, but with one small difference."

She shook her head. She didn't want to know.

He smiled. "It's much harder to kill cockroaches."

Whatever evils she had thought him capable of before seemed to pale when compared to the horror of this reality. Shock numbed her. She closed her eyes to block the sight of his face.

When the first spell shot across the lab, she heard, rather than saw, Lucius's startled response. Her eyes flew open just in time to see his wand spiral through the air and land in Snape's hand.

Lucius snatched the other wand...her wand...from the table and moved behind her stool. The air around them cracked liked thunder, and several brown-robed figures materialised behind Snape. Before she could identify them as friend or foe, they turned in unison and pointed their wands at her. Snape's hand sliced through the air, and her wand flew from Lucius's grasp.

She had no time for relief. Spells shot across the room, and Lucius pulled her to his chest...a human shield.

"Mind the girl!" Snape shouted above the noise of breaking glass and rebounding spells.

He needn't have bothered, as Lucius dived to the floor and pulled her with him. With her wrists still bound, she was unable to brace her fall and cried out when her already-tender head struck hard tile.

"Stay where you are unless you wish her dead!" Lucius shouted.

Curses ricocheted through the lab. Hundreds of phials exploded overhead and showered them with glass and potions. Hermione scrambled to her knees...slipping and sliding without the use of her hands...and tucked her chin to her chest. She watched her memories drip from the table and pool onto the floor beside her knees. Lucius watched them as well, his eyes glazed with madness. She used the distraction to edge away from him, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back against his chest, crouching over her as they huddled behind the table.

"Halt!" shouted a strong voice. All spells ceased.

Hermione frowned. The voice seemed familiar.

"Mr Malfoy, this is Gregor Ustinov. Show yourself, sir."

Lucius tightened his grip and pinned her to his chest, his breaths loud in her ear. Knowing how close his face was, she jerked her head back as hard as she could. She prayed the sickening crunch she heard was his nose breaking, rather than her skull.

"Bitch," he hissed, his voice distinctly nasal. He punched his fist into her back. Her cry was quickly followed by the sound of a scuffle across the lab.

"Gregor..." Snape's voice held more than a warning.

"Delay is pointless, Mr Malfoy," said Ustinov. "You are surrounded. Do not make this any harder on yourself."

"Up," Lucius whispered and urged her to straighten. She lifted her head slowly, certain she'd be hit by a multitude of spells the instant she cleared the table. Lucius knelt behind her, hidden by her body. He pushed her higher, ostensibly using her to block the Aurors' view of him. She stared across the lab and counted nine wands, all trained on her head.

Lucius snatched something from the floor, then circled his arms around her waist and her chest. He pulled her to her feet, and as they rose his intentions became all too clear. The shard of glass he had found felt sharper than any blade of steel...so sharp she didn't dare swallow when he pressed it against her throat.

All eyes watched his hand upon her neck.

"Lower your wands," he said.

No one moved.

The pressure increased. His wrist jerked, and warmth poured onto her shirt.

"All right, lads," Ustinov said and tucked his wand inside his robe. "Lower them."

The Aurors slowly pointed their wands at the floor.

"And you, Severus," Lucius said.

Snape hesitated, and again the shard moved. She tried to angle herself away from the glass, but it was impossible...Lucius might have been glued to her for all the room she had to manoeuvre. Snape's wand dropped to his side, but not before another trail of blood ran down her throat.

"Be reasonable, Mr Malfoy," Ustinov urged. He held up his empty hands and stepped closer. "Failure to surrender will not help at your trial."

"Nor will killing a hostage." The hand against her throat pressed so hard she could scarcely breathe. "Stand down, Gregor, or her death will be on your hands."

Ustinov froze. From the corner of her eye she saw Snape shift forward, a black ship amidst the sea of brown Auror robes. He looked murderous, but his movements were subtle. Lucius didn't appear to notice his approach, his attention still held by the Minister.

"Just release her, Mr Malfoy, and we shall negotiate the terms of your surrender," Ustinov said.

"And concede defeat?" he asked. "Never."

Although her position was arguably the worst it had been thus far, she felt less afraid than at any other point in the evening. The Minister now had all the proof he would ever need to send Lucius away. They were surrounded by Aurors, clearly outnumbered. Escape was futile.

Lucius turned slightly and spotted Snape. "Once a traitor, always a traitor," he spat.

"Let her go," Snape said. "She means nothing to you."

He snorted. "Nothing but a means to an end, now. She obviously meant the same to you."

They walked backwards, small, jerky steps that stabbed the glass into her neck. She couldn't understand what he hoped to accomplish. There were no doors behind them, no way he could escape. He was backing them into a corner. Unless ...

His arm wrapped tightly around her waist, just as it had when he'd used Side-Along Apparition to bring her here last. Panic choked her. She couldn't allow him to leave, couldn't allow him to take her from this room. Not when they were so close to ending the nightmare. She had to act, had to do something.

Her eyes found Snape, and she drew strength from his bleak expression. She willed the panic to change, to transform into something useful. Power sang through her limbs. Her wrists were still bound behind her, crushed between their bodies, but her fingertips tingled against his robes.

She breathed as deeply as she could and inhaled every drop of excess energy. Magic flowed across the room, into her body, and she sent it raging through her hands.

"Relashio!" she shouted.

A crack like gunfire split the air. The room shook. Lucius flew back while she stumbled forward and fell to her knees. Nine wands sent spells above her head. She heard Lucius crash into the wall behind her, heard his shrieks of protest echo through the lab long after they'd ceased. Her head swam with relief. She closed her eyes against a wave of dizziness that threatened to consume her.

It was over.

At long last, the nightmare was over.

The noise of the Aurors became distant, muffled. She should be jubilant, yet she could barely summon enough energy to open her eyes. A blur of black robes appeared before her. Snape. She forced herself to focus on his face, and when her vision cleared she knew something was wrong. His eyes held horror, not triumph.

She peered down at her shirt, certain it should be white. The fabric turned red before her eyes. Her shoulders fell. She'd had no choice but to risk the jagged glass slicing her throat when they split apart. The alternative would have been worse.

Keeping her eyes open proved difficult, as did kneeling. She sank to the floor, but strong arms cushioned her fall. The bindings fell from her wrists, and she summoned what little strength she had to open her eyes. Snape's face loomed above. There was so much she needed to tell him, but when she opened her mouth, words refused to form.

"Do not speak," he said.

She had never heard fear in his voice before. It didn't belong.

Bottles soared through the lab at a wave of his wand. He cradled her head and tipped the contents of a small blue tube into her mouth.

"Drink," he whispered.

She tried to obey, tried to work her throat and swallow. Her body wouldn't allow it. She choked, and the liquid spewed from her mouth. Each spluttering cough sent a wave of warmth from her neck. She barely registered the strangled cry that came from Snape. His fingers slid through the blood and pressed down hard. He Summoned more bottles and dripped unknown fluids into the wound. She felt a burning sensation, saw a puff of smoke, then everything went numb. He abandoned the bottles for his wand and hummed the same, strange song she'd first heard when he'd healed her hand so many months ago.

She closed her eyes and let the melody fill her, let peace settle into her limbs. If only his voice could chase away the cold. Her fingers had become icicles, as brittle as old bones. She didn't dare move them lest they shatter into a thousand pieces.

He stopped chanting, but it took several moments before she could force open her eyes. It took even longer to focus them. His face filled her vision, so familiar, and yet so different. She wanted to smooth the worry from his brow, to steal the torment from his eyes. He should never look so vulnerable. She tried to speak once more, but words were wily, cunning things that taunted her with their complexity.

He placed the blue tube upon her lips again and urged her to swallow.

She held the liquid against her tongue for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on moving it from her mouth, on working the muscles in her throat until she felt it slide lower. Victory washed over her, but she paid dearly for the effort. The simple task of breathing soon seemed monumental. Opening her eyes was out of the question. She was frozen. Exhausted. If only she could sleep for a few minutes, she was certain she'd wake up feeling refreshed and renewed.

"Do not go to sleep, Hermione." He sounded angry now. "Open your eyes."

She pouted. Surely she was allowed a small rest after everything that had happened tonight. Didn't he realise how very tired she was? If the way he shook her was any indication, he either did not know or did not care.

"Open your eyes!"

His voice had become frantic, so she thought she had best comply. But every time she tried to carry out his order, her eyelids remained stubbornly shut. It was such a simple task...she knew precisely what needed to be done, yet her body refused to follow her commands.

He shook her again, his fingers digging into her shoulders. Frantic was abandoned, and livid took its place. "Hermione, you must stay awake. Do you understand? Force yourself to stay awake. Do you hear me?"

Of course I hear you. I'm not deaf.

It was a pity he couldn't read her mind. If only they could have a nice, logical conversation, she was certain she could convince him how beneficial sleep would be.

He grabbed her chin and jerked her head from side to side.

Stop that.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Open your eyes!" He slapped her cheeks, gently at first, but then with more force. "This was not supposed to happen," he growled. "You should not have been here...you should have slept until tomorrow!"

Perfect. I'll do that now.

His lips brushed her ear. "Why did you come here?" he asked. "Why didn't you stay at Hogwarts, you foolish, obstinate girl?"

She had no answer.

His voice cracked, and he whispered, "Don't leave me" into her ear, the plea so faint it took a moment to register.

"This cannot happen," he said. "You are far too stubborn to go without a fight."

But I'm so tired. And it's so cold.

"Hermione?"

Although her eyes had been closed for several minutes, the darkness somehow managed to grow darker. Night descended, folded her inside its crushing embrace until she could no longer fight its pull. She felt no fear, only release. Her pain vanished. Just seconds ago, she'd been so cold she wondered if she'd ever know heat again, but now she was cocooned within a safe, warm cloud.

There was nothing but light pressure when Snape's fist pounded against her chest.

"Dammit, Hermione, wake up!"

She heard him call to her from very far away.

"No! Don't do this!"

Then she heard nothing at all.

A small note to address some of the reviews I received for the last chapter: Yes, leaving Hogwarts wasn't the smartest thing to do. She took precautions (staff-trace, Apparition into an empty office), but they failed. Few people make wise choices when they are half-asleep or sick, and even fewer think straight when they are in pain or in love. I'm terribly sorry to have ruined your image of Genius!Hermione. Bygones!