High Tide

Phoenix Tears, Chapter Seventeen : High Tide

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute.

To the betas-of-pure-awesomeness: LAxo and WriterMerrin, THANK YOU!!

Severus was woken in the middle of the night by the burn of his Dark Mark...not the savagely painful flare of an immediate summons, but the awkward ache of another Death Eater communicating with the Dark Lord. The panic that followed was very nearly incapacitating.

Severus dressed quickly. His exit, via the headmaster's office, sparked a flurry of questions from the resident portraits.

"Severus?"

"What has happened?"

"Where are you going?"

"It would seem that someone has captured Potter," he replied from the door, then ran lightly through the empty corridors, headed for the outside. He was in such a hurry that he left before the Malfoy owl arrived bearing an urgent personal message.

Without knowing exactly who had activated their mark, he Apparated to Malfoy Manor. The chances were good that someone there would know what was going on.

A slight figure in a white gown threw itself upon him halfway up the garden path, and he lowered his wand only once he realised it was pressed into Jocelyn's throat.

"You came!" she sobbed with obvious relief. "They've got Hermione, and Aunt Bellatrix..."

Severus didn't wait to hear more. He lifted her bodily and leapt into the air, covering the ground between them and the front door in the shortest possible time.

"Where?" he demanded as they touched down.

"Living room!" she replied, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Go back upstairs and get dressed as quickly as possible; wait for me on the stairs."

Jocelyn nodded obediently and ran off quickly, her bare feet flashing under her gown as it streamed out behind her. Severus, for his part, straightened his robes and plastered a sneer onto his face as he strode towards the living room. The scene he found was one of chaos: Lucius, Bellatrix and Fenrir were screaming at each other amid shards of broken glass. The chandelier had wreaked havoc on the decor. Granger was nowhere to be seen.

"You!" shrieked Bellatrix at Snape's appearance. "This is your fault!"

"I beg your pardon?" drawled Severus, raising one eyebrow derisively. He tamped his anger down under a cold shield of self-control.

"You sent Dobby! I know he works at Hogwarts!" Spittle flew from the corner of Bellatrix's mouth.

Dobby?

"Enough, Bella!" Narcissa cut across her hysterical sister.

"Let go of me! Once again Snape turns up at the opportune moment; once again Potter escapes!"

"I came because you called," sneered Severus, flexing his arm slightly to make his point. "I can assure you that concern for Potter's safety was far from my motives."

"I said, enough!" Narcissa spoke harshly. "The Dark Lord will arrive any moment now! We need to calm down!"

With a vengeful and slightly panicked glance at Severus, Bellatrix spun back towards Lucius, leaving Draco the opportunity to pull his Head of House aside.

It was a relief to hear that all three members of the trio had managed to get away, and when Lucius discovered that they'd somehow managed to take Ollivander and Lovegood with them, leaving Wormtail for dead in the downstairs dungeon, Severus felt an unanticipated surge of elation. It did little, though, to dull the edge of fury that he felt at the evening's other events.

Bellatrix. Fenrir.

Severus wanted to kill her. He wanted to tear the werewolf limb from limb.

Behind his Occlumency shields he swore to wreak punishment in every imaginable way. Bellatrix would be made to regret her actions, and leaving her to the Dark Lord's displeasure was but the first and most sensible step. His arrival, anticipated with terror, came not a moment too soon. Unsurprisingly, Voldemort was incensed to have been called back for no reason, and Severus took pains to make sure that his own belated arrival was noted...impugning Bellatrix's handling of the situation without hesitation.

"Once again the Black family have disappointed me!" exclaimed Voldemort, his eyes flashing a terrifying red in anger. "Your presence here, Severus, is no longer needed. Return to Hogwarts, I shall visit you there once I'm done."

Severus bowed deferentially. "I shall take the children with me," he commented. "Come along, Draco."

It was a bold move, but it succeeded. With an anguished glance at his parents, the boy obeyed, following close by Severus' heels. Lucius called after them both despairingly as they left, but Severus felt no pity for his friend. As far as he was concerned, if Lucius was prepared to ignore Severus' stated desires regarding Granger, he deserved whatever punishment the Dark Lord might hand out.

Jocelyn, as directed, was waiting on the marble staircase in the foyer, and Severus Apparated both her and Draco back to Hogwarts. He shooed them off towards the dungeons the instant they arrived back at the school. Jocelyn kept her head bowed and went to move off obediently. The boy, however, was hesitant.

"You saved me . . . again."

Severus sneered. "Yes. I confess it's getting a little tedious. Do try and take better care of yourself in the future."

"He . . . he won't kill them, will he?"

"It's unlikely." He added more gently: "Go to bed, Draco. The Dark Lord is on his way, and I don't want to see you until dinner time tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Jocelyn gave him a long look, followed by a firm nod, then she pulled Draco off after her to the dungeons. Severus made his way up to his office as quickly as possible. There he found the Malfoy owl and, too late to be of any use, read the short letter:

Come to Malfoy Manor immediately, Jocelyn Malfoy-Smith.

The open childish letters of her script caught at his heart, and once he'd sent the owl back, he began to pace his office, the small scrap of parchment crushed in his hand. He set Phineas scurrying back and forth from one portrait to the other; at each re-appearance, Severus' heart leapt into his mouth in hope of news, but there was nothing forthcoming. In answer to Dumbledore's many questions, Severus replied only that Potter had escaped. He couldn't bring himself to voice anything more.

His mind threw up image after image of Bellatrix torturing a steady stream of victims, with Granger's face superimposed over those in his memory. Bellatrix tended towards the viciously creative; she took an unseemly, sadistic joy in inflicting pain. Snape imagined that knife of hers slicing through Granger's tender flesh, marking it with indelible, painful runes. He saw Bellatrix's hands tearing at clothes and rending private flesh in public humiliation. He thought, all too vividly, about Fenrir's yellowed teeth and imagined the werewolf's fetid breath against Granger's neck before biting through skin and muscle and tendon to contaminate her blood once and for all.

Not even the sure knowledge that Voldemort was punishing those responsible was enough to stem the tide of horrific imagery. He knew. He'd seen it before; there was no possible way to deny how awful, how damaging, how degrading the experience must have been.

Severus felt ill.

He had only meant to keep her safe; but once again he had failed.

It was nearly dawn when his Dark Mark burned once more.

Severus was no fool. From the point...mere days before...when he had told Voldemort about Grindelwald, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord turned up to claim Dumbledore's wand. He only hoped he would survive the event.

Availing himself of a torch from the wall near the castle doors, Severus walked down to the gate and let Voldemort in. Up, through the grounds and past the lake, they walked together. When Voldemort dismissed him, Severus kept his relief under wraps. Bowing deeply, he turned his back on the terrifying travesty of a man that Voldemort had become and walked away.

The novelty of not yet being dead sustained Severus through several hours more of the Dark Lord's company. After desecrating Dumbledore's grave, Voldemort joined Severus in the headmaster's office and flaunted his new wand before the old man's portrait. In other circumstances, Severus might have found a kernel of black humour in the odd farce he and the portraits were forced to maintain, but with every thought behind his Occulmency shields focussed on Granger and her current, unknown state of health, he itched and fretted the entire time.

For all he knew, she could be bleeding to death while the sun came up, with the two idiot boys bungling healing spells over her desperately injured body...while he drank Firewhisky with the Dark Lord.

Afterwards, he was never sure how he made it through without losing the remains of his dinner.

The moment the Dark Lord Disapparated, Severus turned on his heel and ran. He sprinted up the path towards the castle through the early morning sunshine, his robes billowing in his wake. He thundered up the staircases and bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently as he waited for the gargoyle at the entrance to his office to move aside. He took the moving stairs two at a time. He threw the door open with his customary bang and raced across the room. Vaulting the last corner of his desk, he skidded to a stop in front of Dumbledore's portrait, his left hand pressed flat against the canvas.

"Now, Albus," he ordered, his breath laboured from the effort of his mad dash. "Use the Deluminator."

"Er, Severus," Dumbledore replied without moving to comply, "I don't really think that's a good idea."

"I mean it, Albus! Do it now!" Tracking Hermione would take hours. The Deluminator would be much, much faster.

Dumbledore drew back slightly, his brows pulled together and a dubious look on his face. "Really, Severus! It's vital that they not see you or know you to be acting on my behalf! In your current state, it could be disastrous!"

Severus gripped the frame of Dumbledore's painting with his other hand and shook it in frustration. He growled with anger.

"It won't do you much good even if he does use the Deluminator," interjected Phineas smoothly. Severus spun his attention towards him immediately. "They've gone to Shell Cottage, and as you know, it's Secret Kept."

"How do you know?" demanded Severus, striding across the room towards Phineas' frame. "What did you hear?"

Phineas shrugged. "I had it from the girl."

"How is she?" There was a dangerous edge of desperation to Severus' voice.

"Seemed fine to me," replied Phineas unconcernedly. "Apparently she's off for a walk along the beach."

"When?" He had hold of Phineas' frame and was gripping both edges tightly.

"Oh, about ten minutes ago..."

Without waiting for any more information, Severus took off at a run. He heard Dumbledore's shouts behind him, but he paid them no mind. When he reached the main staircase, Severus leapt from the banister, soaring through the air to the ground. He landed only to push open the main door, then he took flight once again.

From the Apparation point, he spun into nothingness only to reappear on the beach below Shell Cottage. The house itself was hidden from view by the height of the cliffs. Severus Disillusioned himself. Too tense to sit down, too careful to pace...and perhaps give himself away by the resultant puffs of sand...he stood frozen in place, his eyes flickering from one side of the deserted beach to the other.

It was a long ten minutes before Granger rounded the corner. She was blessedly alone, and blessedly upright. He dropped the charm that had kept him hidden as he waited for Granger to notice him. His gut roiled with a new anxiety.

She looked up and saw him within seconds; as their eyes met, she Apparated away.

The sharp crack of her disappearance hit Severus like a slap in the face, and his eyes blinked closed. What did you expect? he berated himself. She was just tortured by Death Eaters. Why would she want to talk to you? The wand at his throat forced his attention back to the present, and his eyes flew open.

Hermione Granger stood before him, wand out and a grim expression on her face. Gone was the eager, naive girl who had willingly opened the door to him last June; in her place was a whipcord thin warrior, all reflexes and hard edges. She was still alone.

"Granger," he ventured, making sure to keep his arms motionless at his side.

"Snape," she replied. "Give me one good reason to believe you are who you appear to be."

Severus swallowed, causing his Adam's apple to rasp uncomfortably against the tip of her wand. "In the Hospital Wing you called me a phoenix."

"Not good enough; that's what I asked you last time."

After a moment's thought, he responded, "Ask me a question, then."

Granger didn't hesitate. "Where is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?"

It was a clever question: no doubt, then, that she was who she seemed to be.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," he began, getting as far as, "can be found," before Mad-Eye's Tongue-Tying Curse kicked in and he spluttered to a halt, momentarily choked and unable to continue.

By the time he'd regained control of his mouth and his breathing, Granger had sheathed her wand...no, not her wand: Bellatrix's wand. The realisation made Severus shudder, though luckily the reaction was concealed within the rather violent motions engendered by the Tongue-Tying Curse.

"What do you want, Snape?" she asked, arms crossed.

Sometime in the last few months, he'd lost the honorific "Professor." Severus found that he didn't mind at all.

For several moments he sought for the right words.

I needed to see you.

I . . . I . . . I . . .

How ridiculous to be stuck in the first person singular when it was her he was worried about.

"You were tortured by Bellatrix," he said finally.

Granger shrugged, a hard expression on her face. "So?" she asked.

"And by Fenrir Greyback?"

"He threatened," she replied dismissively. "Touched my cheek, nothing more."

"Bellatrix," he said again, the tip of his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips, "did she cut you? Did she . . . ?" He trailed off, too invested in the answer to voice the question.

Granger pulled at the neckline of her jacket to reveal a thin, red scar, newly healed. "She cut me here, nicked my ear; the rest was Crucio."

Relief softened every muscle in his body at once, and his shoulders dropped perceptibly lower. Unexpectedly, the palpable palliation of his anxiety spurred Granger's anger.

"Do you think that makes it okay?" she inquired, outraged. She stepped towards him and gave him a sharp push.

Severus took a step backwards in surprise.

"Do you think that I didn't feel Greyback's hand on my cheek every time I closed my eyes and tried to sleep?" She pushed him again, stepping forward to close the space between them once more. "That I didn't imagine those sickly pointed teeth sinking into my skin? Didn't smell his stinking breath? Didn't wonder what it would be like to be raped? Or torn to pieces?" With every question she pushed him, and eventually he stumbled, falling backwards into the sand.

She followed him down, striking him now with her fists, beating against his chest; her questions were less and less coherent.

"Didn't see Bellatrix's awful face behind my eyelids?" she managed, gasping. "Didn't wonder..."

Severus managed to catch at one of her hands, pinning it to him, when, to his consternation, she burst into tears, her face buried in his robes.

Automatically, his free arm closed around her. Liberating the other, he managed to lever himself up so that Granger sat in his lap rather than crouching over him. Once their balance was secure, he wrapped the second arm around her too.

She cried until her tears soaked through several layers of wool to reach his chest, and he held her without complaint. With one hand buried in her hair and the other pulled tight around her shoulders, he breathed her in and wordlessly willed her whole and happy. His throat hurt with guilt.

A good fifteen minutes later, Granger gave a final, punctuating sniff, her shoulders no longer shaking with sobs. Severus' legs were slightly numb from the weight of her, but he didn't want her to get up...not before he had said what he needed to say. Once the uncontrollable outpouring of tears was over, there was a sudden awkwardness in their position, and Severus was struck by a new panic.

"I owe you an apology, Granger." His throat was tight from the long minutes of tongue-tied desperation, but it was somehow easier to confess with her head buried in his chest and her big, too-familiar eyes hidden; as he held onto her, overwhelmed by her nearness and clutching onto her like a precious gift, it was easier to hold on to the false hope that she might forgive him just once more.

From the unnaturally still set of her shoulders, he knew she was listening, though she hadn't replied and she didn't look up. He imagined that her eyes were pressed shut; he could feel the tense grip of her fists curled in the folds of his robes.

He cleared his throat, staring out at the undulating surface of the sea, and willed himself onwards. "Several of the Death Eaters have taken advantage of women imprisoned under the regime's anti-Muggle-born laws."

Granger didn't move, yet it seemed to Severus that she shrank away; her almost imperceptible response twisted the pain in his chest tighter still.

"The Dark Lord wanted . . . he wanted to reward me; he offered me a 'Mudblood' of my own. I refused."

One of Granger's fists relaxed, and she pressed one palm firmly against his chest. He knew it for a sign of her relief, and his heart grieved at what was yet to come.

"I told him..." Severus swallowed heavily, and when he could continue, his voice came out as a whisper. "I told him that I desired you."

Granger flinched. Her whole body twisted inwards, the hand that had been pressed flat closed back into a fist, and her face burrowed further in towards his breastbone. Severus felt the involuntary spasm of her body physically and psychically. He felt inordinately glad that he hadn't had to witness the revulsion that surely pulled at her face as clearly as it did her other muscles.

"Had anyone other than Bellatrix apprehended you," he continued, determined to finish his sordid tale, "it should have been enough to ensure your survival . . . Bellatrix, however, has little desire to do well by me. I'm afraid that you suffered the brunt of a punishment that was simultaneously intended for me."

Granger moved, pushing herself back slightly from his chest with her palms, though carefully not meeting his eyes.

"That was very noble of you, Snape. Thank you." Her voice was thickened by her very recent tears. "It was lucky, really, that it was me she chose to interrogate. She used Legilimency in an attempt to find out where we'd got the sword and had she picked one of the boys, they would have offered little resistance to that means of questioning. They might have betrayed you inadvertently."

Severus couldn't wrap his mind around the implications of her words: once again she wanted to see the best in him.

Ineffectually, she smoothed one hand down the wet, rumpled patch she had left on his robes. "I'm sorry that I took out my anger," she added before he'd managed to formulate a reply to her first comment, "and my...my fears on you. I won't do it again."

Clumsily, she tried to stand. Severus handed her up and then quickly rose to his own feet. As the blood rushed unimpeded into his legs, they burned with pins and needles. He felt bereft. He couldn't find the words to tell her how much her tears and anger had meant to him.

"Do you need a handkerchief?" he asked stiffly.

"No, er, I've got one of yours somewhere." After a second's fumbling, she pulled his handkerchief from a pocket and blew her nose thoroughly. Glancing around self-consciously, she sat herself, rather tentatively, on one of the larger rocks that lined the base of the cliff.

After a moment's hesitation, Severus settled himself one rock over. He could feel the wind against the damp patch left by her tears, but he chose not to dry it. His emotions were in such turmoil that he felt dizzy. He should have sent her back to the cottage and safety, but instead he grasped greedily at the possibility of additional seconds in her company.

Granger was folding her...his...handkerchief in a clumsy attempt to keep the soggy patch tucked well away. Her face was red and blotchy, but now that it was visible to him, Severus couldn't get enough of looking at it; he tilted his head forward and gazed at her through his hair.

"Please tell me that Jocelyn's presence at Malfoy Manor has nothing to do with her being someone's . . . Mudblood," she asked at last, staring out at the horizon.

"No!" Severus saw Granger's shoulders relax slightly at his explosive denial. "On the contrary, I told everyone she was Malfoy's bastard, and everyone believed me...to the point where I was able to get her blood status changed. At the time, it seemed like a good way to keep her safe, to hide her in plain sight in the bosom of a Death Eater family . . ."

Severus took a deep breath.

"But I was wrong," he added with new certainty. "It's far too . . . damaging for her to be around that kind of behaviour. Later today I shall owl Vector and have her send a Portkey. I should have sent Jocelyn to Krum from the very beginning."

"You're in contact with Vector?" There was an urgency to Granger's question, and Severus felt an unmistakable flash of jealousy at the interest Granger showed in her other professor.

"Yes. She is in Bulgaria with Krum."

"Is she still working on the matrix?"

"Yes, of course."

"How can I get a copy?" Granger was leaning towards him now, and his realisation of what sparked her interest eased his heart a little.

"Actually," he said, "I'm fairly certain she intends to get information to you when she thinks you will need it." The memory of her questions about how to contact Granger were fresh in his mind.

"Huh," she replied, leaning back once more and running a thumb nail absently down the outside seam of her jeans. Her next question was completely unexpected. "Can you Occlude against Crucio?"

"No," he replied. "Though you can use Occlumency to conceal thoughts that you otherwise might have revealed."

Granger nodded. "That's exactly what I did."

Severus could tell that there were other questions fomenting, and he waited patiently.

"How long before the damage . . . becomes permanent?"

"Did your shields fail?" he asked in response. Granger shook her head. "Then you're fine. The shields are the first line of defence."

Granger let out a long rush of breath, and Severus knew that he had just relieved her of a terrible anxiety. Something inside him twisted painfully.

"Granger," he said urgently. "It's crucial that you not use Occlumency to hide away the events of last night."

She turned her face to look at him directly.

"The memories may be painful to deal with, but if you lock them away, you risk them becoming permanent and potentially dangerous blockages. Even if you have dreams, don't try to block them; use Dreamless Sleep if you must...though never more than twice a week."

He knew that she'd read the Cvetkovich, but under the pressure of traumatic events, even the most well-informed theorist could act impulsively.

"I know," she said finally, turning her gaze to stare out over the ocean. There was a long silence, broken only by the endless hiss of the waves, their soft gurgle as they pulled back from the pebbles and sand at the shore.

Severus pulled out his wand. "Let me run a diagnostic," he said. It came out halfway between an order and question.

"Fleur already did one..." At his raised eyebrow, the ghost of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "Go ahead, then, I'm sure you think you can do a better job."

Severus waved his wand over her, scanning the resultant lines and colours that shimmered into being with an expert eye.

"What the hell happened to your back?" The question burst from him in a rush, but Granger seemed unperturbed by the savage edge to his voice.

"Oh, Dobby dropped the chandelier on me. I was unconscious at the time, so I didn't really notice. Fleur got all of the glass out and treated it with dittany."

Severus merely grunted. It was obvious from the charm's readings that she was telling the truth, but it did little to calm his ruffled temper. Sheathing his wand, he rooted around in an inside pocket, unearthing several phials of potion. "Here," he said ungracefully, passing them to Granger.

She took them and peered at the labels. There were a couple of bottles of Dreamless Sleep..."That's the concentrated form," he warned her...a general healing potion, and a bottle of the virulent green antivenom. Her eyes widened when she recognised the last one.

"Thank you," she breathed. "You knew, then?"

He nodded, watching as she tucked the glass containers carefully into the pocket of her jacket. Her next question was unexpected.

"Have you ever," she hesitated momentarily, her gaze newly turned away from him and out towards the horizon, "have you ever been Crucioed?"

"Yes." Her eyes flickered back towards him for just a second, then turned back to the view. "Many times," he continued. "Even, on occasion, by Bellatrix herself."

"Is that why you learned Occlumency?" There was an odd edge to her voice, as if she wanted to feign nonchalance, yet still each question tumbled from her lips as if she couldn't hold it back.

It was easier to answer such personal questions while she didn't look directly at him. She was too thin, he realised suddenly, and even though her face was puffy from her extended crying session, the sharpened lines of her face made her eyes too large against the bones of her cheek.

"No. My mother taught me Occlumency long before I met Bellatrix." Stretching out his long legs, he balanced the heel of one boot on the toe of the other; his circulation had returned to normal. "My father was not a nice man."

Granger inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry," she replied awkwardly.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. She gave him the ghost of a watery smile.

"I should get back before someone comes looking for me," she said.

Severus got to his feet at once. Granger stood more slowly.

"We'll probably stay at Shell Cottage for a few weeks," she commented, her gaze fixed on the horizon. When Severus made no reply, she continued, "Once I feel a little better, I'll probably run here on the beach quite early in the mornings."

Severus opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"Say, six thirty. Probably not tomorrow or the day after, but after that I might try and run every day."

"In your situation, I wouldn't advise running alone," he replied finally.

Granger turned towards him. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and a lock of curly hair blew across her face. "Thank you,"...she paused momentarily before adding impulsively..."thank you, Snape, for everything."

"Hurry up," he replied crossly, jerking his head towards the cliff and Shell Cottage. With another fleeting, watery smile, she was gone. Severus watched her walk up the narrow cliff staircase with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. He didn't deserve her easy forgiveness.

He'd have to try harder.