La Biche

La Biche

Disclaimer: This is merely a tribute, not a source of income for me.

Why did I call her that name? What if I was wrong? I don't even remember this witch... Bien-Aimée.

Severus ran his fingers through his hair as he paced up and down his office. He wondered if he should go and speak to Minerva, but then he thought he should hang about the office in case Miss Granger, Hermione, returned rapidly after delivering her message. He wouldn't want her to arrive back in the Department of Mysteries alone, at night. Not after what had happened to her the last time she was here.

He shuddered. They were still trying to repair the devastation the Prophecy Room had sustained during that episode. That's how he and Joanna had found the damaged prophecy about himself, the wolf, and the bitch. A short snort rushed down his nose. He could think of any number of witches who suited that description.

Sitting down at his desk, he opened the drawer and reached automatically for the handkerchief which had been his talisman ever since he had been given it. It reminded him of Lupin, and it still smelled faintly of a young woman. His hand stopped in mid air as he realised it was gone. What had possessed him to give away his final tie to Remus? But then, Hermione had just told him Lupin had expected her to give it to him, for him to give it back to her. His thoughts whirled in circles.

He reached for another object tucked at the very back of the drawer. Pulling it out, he looked at the picture of himself and Remus. It had been a while since he had thought about Lupin. He smiled a little at the picture. They both looked so young and innocent, so... unscathed. The photo must have been taken near the end of their time at Hogwarts, but he couldn't recall who had taken it. Watching the werewolf tousling his hair, he wondered how Lupin had known he would meet Hermione again to give her that hanky.

It was all too convoluted and confusing.

A slight shiver of anxiety ran through him. Had he done all the spells correctly? Of course he had. He was a competent wizard, wasn't he? He knew the Portkey would take Hermione to Hogwarts, but not when exactly. The spells were more tuned to need than to an exact time, and this was the first use of a Timeportkey over such a time span.

What if it didn't work? He felt nauseated.

Shoving back from the desk, he resorted to striding up and down the room again. That bloody Granger witch had stirred up a whole slew of unanswered questions, and now he was waiting for her with no idea when she would be back. Damn her!

With a few angry slashes of his wand, he Transfigured the seat Hermione had sat on into a couch. He dropped onto it, clutching the picture to his chest. Swinging his legs up onto the seat, he leaned back against the armrest. As his head drooped back, he tried to remember something about the witch named Bien-Aimée. Nothing came to mind, except the very recent memories of the rather delectable Miss Granger.

The last time he had seen her, she had been a tear-streaked, snot-nosed schoolgirl. No, that wasn't right. The last time had been at his trial when she had been a poised, self-assured young woman.

She had delivered her testimony with clarity and maturity, her intelligent brown eyes watching him the whole time, only looking away when the questioning caused her some confusion and finally when she had been asked to leave the witness stand. Her expression had been open and accepting throughout her speech. Even when he had scowled and curled his lip, she had not flinched.

The information she had reported to the Wizengamot made much more sense since he had restored his own memories of Lupin. He shifted restlessly on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he realised he was not going to get much sleep tonight as he kept his lonely vigil. He sighed again deeply and looked at the picture he held in his hands. Lupin tousled his hair over and over in a repeating loop. His own lips mouthed the words, "Please, save me." He watched the brief scenario replay. "Please, save me."

*

"Save me!" he yelled as he jerked awake. A cold sweat sheened his skin, and he felt a surge of panic. Leaping to his feet, he automatically grabbed his wand. Severus peered into the gloom, but no one was there.

Slowly, he sat back down, swallowing a rising lump of nausea and fear. He ran a finger round inside his collar, pulling at the constricting sensation of his robes around his scarred throat.

He realised he had drifted off to sleep, but Miss Granger had not returned in the meantime. Where was she? He glanced at the chronometer on the wall. Shouldn't she be back by now? He wasn't sure. The uncertainty unnerved him almost as much as the nightmare he had been having.

Severus groaned as he laid his head back against the cushion. Thinking about Lupin had stirred his memories, causing him to have his first bad dream in a long time. He tried to remember why the dream had frightened him so much. Covering his eyes with his hands, he thought about it again.

It started pleasantly, with Lupin's laughter as he ruffled Snape's hair. Her laughter joined with Remus's, making Snape's lips curve up in the hint of a smile. He was one of her friends... her favoured one. He tried to focus on the woman, but couldn't see her clearly. It was as if she was standing in front of a bright light. Severus squinted into the glare. Warmth radiated from her. He flew towards her, arms outstretched.

No! No, the screams were his. Then, Lupin's strong arms held him tight as Snape thrashed and howled. "Save me. Save me!"

Severus ran a hand down over his throat which hurt from shouting. He conjured a soothing honey, ginger, and lemon drink. As he breathed in the vapours, he relaxed. The spicy, sweet smell reminded him vaguely of Miss Granger. Similar scents had wafted in with her when she had arrived earlier. Severus wondered where she was right now.

Gadding about with Potter, no doubt.

He huffed and stretched out on the sofa again, tucking his hands behind his head. Snape had to admit he didn't like the idea of Hermione fraternising with the enemy. He could visualise her as a student, arms crossed and chin up, standing her ground against injustice. She still retained that feistiness.

He recalled her as she matured at Hogwarts, her glorious mane of hair tossed back over her slender shoulders or flying free in the wild Scottish wind. His hands twitched again with the desire to feel those tresses under his fingertips.

In the dark, he lay still, thinking about her.

Severus imagined her earnest face and frantically waving hand. How he had loved to watch those same, capable hands working deftly in the Potions laboratory. Their skill and precision was breath taking, and her teaching was inspirational. He had drawn on that inspiration when he had started teaching himself. No, wait... That wasn't right. Granger was his pupil, not his teacher. He sat upright, planting his feet firmly on the ground and running a hand over his scalp.

She couldn't possibly have beeen his teacher; he would have remembered.

He turned his mind back to the Potions lab. There was Granger sitting next to Potter, her eager, brown eyes sparking with interest. There she was, helping to clear up after another Longbottom disaster. In his memory, she wafted past him, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost smell her.

Here she was again, another disaster, another pair of boys clearing up. She loomed over Potter, castigating him for his bullying, backing Lupin and... me! Snape's breath rushed out with the whispered exclamation.

His eyes flickered open, gazing unseeing into the darkness of his office. Suddenly, the memories were rushing back. She was there with him, standing up for him, helping him and making him stronger. Her presence filled his mind. Her teaching... her friendship... laughing... flying... her eyes... her tears.

He remembered the smell of her as he hugged her close and buried his nose deep in her curls. His palms relived the feel of her skin under his hands as she slipped through his arms. He lifted a fingertip to his lips at the memory of her kiss.

Most of all, he remembered her eyes. Her eyes had enchanted him. They had smiled at him and questioned him, with a penetrating glance. They had melted his core with their subtle warmth. What beautiful doe-eyes. No wonder his Patronus had changed forever.

Hermione.

Charmaine!

Charmaine? She was Charmaine.

Severus nearly laughed out loud at the over-brimming sensations of happiness swirling through his chest. Merlin, he was glad Lupin had chosen to send her and the handkerchief to him. Lupin had been a great mate throughout all those desperate, lonely years, right up to the end.

Snape's heart skipped a beat. Fear clenched tight around him. When had Charmaine disappeared from his life? What had happened to Charmaine... and where was Hermione now?

The nightmare crashed down around him. Adrenaline surged through his tensed muscles, and his heart pounded. He remembered grovelling before Voldemort. Fear and hatred burned in his chest as he recalled the vicious curses and the brutal beating. A sob rose up in his throat. He could almost feel the weight of her battered, limp body in his arms. Her beautiful face, smeared with blood and dirt. Severus had pressed the handkerchief into her lifeless hand, and with a whispered Portus, she had gone.

"Oh my gods, what have I done?" Severus covered his face with his hands as he wept.

A/N: Sunny33, the magic beta lady, has slashed and burned this chapter.