Into the Meadow

Sorry for the wait. I had a small surgery, but the aftermath was a haze of Vicodin (now I know how it feels to be House!). Hope this intrigues you. And for those who are waiting to hear about Snape, he will be in the next chapter (rubs hands evilly).

Thanks to my cheerleaders, Maria and Beth! And an extra round of applause for karelia, who somehow finds time in her very busy life to deal with my crappy grammar! ;)

***

For three days, Hermione rested and healed from the birth. She felt she had been soundly thrashed, but at least she could walk around. As soon as she was able to get down the stairs, Augusta announced it was time for her to recuperate at the Lovegood house.

Hermione was so drugged on all the various potions Mrs. Longbottom made her take that she felt numb the entire time. Luna came to her just before they went to Floo to the Lovegood house in Ottery St. Catchpole to show her Alice Hermione.

Hermione took Alice into her arms and looked at the slumbering child. She indeed had curly hair, a darker brown than her own chestnut hair, but it seemed a bit more tamed than her bushy locks. Hermione thought how odd she should thank Professor Snape for his lanky hair. Only his genetic disposition for stick-straight locks could spare her daughter from a lifetime of agony over frizzy hair.

She stroked her hair and her skin, imprinting on her mind the delicate fingers and fair skin. Baby Alice jerked in her sleep and opened her eyes a bit. They were dark; however, all babies had dark-blue eyes when they were born, unless they were brown. These eyes were definitely blue, like a midnight blue. Hermione kissed her daughter gently on her soft lips and nuzzled her nose with her own.

"I love you," she whispered as her lips grazed Alice's. "I will always love you."

She looked up to Luna and gave Alice to her new mum. A sense of calm washed over her. If she had to give her child to anyone, it would be Luna she could trust to care and love her.

"Don't worry, Hermione. It's not good-bye forever," Luna reassured her. "You will know her, and she will know you. After all, she will want to know how she got the name 'Hermione!'"

Hermione swallowed a lump that was forming in her throat and followed Augusta towards the Floo. The older witch gave her an approving nod. She had been brave to not fall apart at such an emotional moment.

***

Life at the Lovegood house was sad and lonely. Xenophilius and Augusta tried hard to make her as comfortable as possible, but she couldn't stop the tears from coming. She tried to tell herself that it was for the best, that if Snape knew, he would be grateful to not have additional shame heaped upon him.

Many days she sat in Luna's old bedroom and looked out the window towards the Burrow. How much would she love to just collapse into Molly's loving arms and tell her everything that had happened to her. She would never be judged or made to feel unwelcome there. She knew the Weasleys would support her, but the secret would never remain hidden. Molly would demand that Snape be made aware of his daughter, and she could only shudder at what Ron and Harry would do.

Every day she had to talk herself through the same argument to keep her from running away to the Burrow.

"You realize that burdening others just because you feel a need to be pitied won't help a soul," Augusta announced one day while she sat knitting.

Hermione was cross. "What are you talking about?" she snapped.

Mrs. Longbottom looked her straight in the eye and said, "You did your duty. You knew the cost; you were made aware of the risk to your life. Still, you wanted to be in the Order. It could have been much worse. You could have been passed around to every wizard in the room and died. Or you could have been tortured into insanity like my son and his wife. But your life was spared. It was tragic what you endured, but you knew the cost! Don't allow this to define you, Hermione."

Hermione whirled around on the older witch. "Define me! It wasn't as if this were only three days of my life taken from me. Giving up my child has nothing to do with the Order! Define me?"

She laughed in the woman's face before turning her back and looking out the window. "For the rest of my life, I will have to live with the knowledge that a part of me is living and breathing apart from me. The pain won't ever go away!"

Augusta Longbottom jumped up from her chair and seized the younger witch by shoulders, forcing her to turn and face her. "Now, you know the bitterness of doing what is right. Only fools believe the right thing will always feel good and satisfying. Sometimes making the right choice is not as clear and easy to recognize. You must have an ability to step back and see the sum of all the parts, working together in harmony.

"You will suffer, and you will bear your loss with dignity. Do you think I do not understand the kind of pain that is life enduring? I see my son and his wife fading into nothing as each day passes. Once there was hope, but then it was over. I go every week and face the consequences of what others have done. I could have kept them in my home. There was room, and the Ministry would have gladly paid for any help or additional care for them in order to be with their family. But I chose Neville over them. I CHOSE my grandson over my own son, so he would not have to see his parents every day in their hell! I lived with my choice because I knew it was best for Neville. Yes, I could have been kinder and more loving to him. Yes, I faltered and allowed my anger rule me, but you listen to me, Hermione Granger. Let my errors show you a better way.

"Hold on to what is best and noble for your daughter. She will be safe in a family of pure-bloods. She will never face the stigma of being a Death Eater's child. Just knowing her parentage would strike a chord of pity into every witch's heart, and Alice would have to bear the shame for being a rape child!"

***

Months passed, and Augusta Longbottom's words reverberated in Hermione's mind. After she had healed from the delivery, she went to Australia to find her parents. She hadn't known what to expect, but it all worked itself out well.

Yet, it was still difficult for Hermione. She would half-listen to her mother talk incessantly about the strong connection between a mother and her child, especially between mothers and daughters. Hermione would smile weakly and hug her mum, telling her she loved her.

One evening her father decided to take them all out for dinner. It was a lovely restaurant, and Hermione narrowed her eyes as she looked at her parents. They were up to something.

She laid down her menu and took a sip of her wine. "Fine," she said. "Why don't you both tell me now what you are doing so I will then be able to eat in peace?"

Her mother and father smiled and clasped hands. It drove a knife through Hermione's heart. Oh, how she wished it were possible for someone to love her!

Her mother jarred her from her thoughts.

"That's what I'm talking about," said Jane Granger.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her mother's accusing finger. "What is wrong with you two?" she asked.

Her mother took Hermione's hand into her own and said, "I know that it must be hard for you. Your father and I never had to go off to war, and we certainly never expected for our daughter to do so; nevertheless, the fact remains that you are clearly unhappy. Now, I won't begrudge you that, but if you were only your true self again! You seem to be so lost, so... fragile. We're worried for you, Hermione, and we want you to get back on the horse and reclaim the person you once were."

Hermione withdrew her hand away from her mother's grasp. The voice that emitted from her mouth was foreign to her. It was cold, resentful, and full of underlying rage. "The person you knew was a child, and I am no longer a child. I won't lie; I am having a hard time of it. There are things that happened that I can't talk about, and it is just going to take time for me to figure out who the 'adult' Hermione is."

Hermione's parents were silent for quite a while on the subject as they ordered their food and made small talk.

Hermione's father spoke up next and said, "You know, your mother and I never did get your news about what kind of career you wanted. The last I heard was that a class called 'Ancient Runes' was fascinating!"

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Dad, that was four years ago!" she chided him as she chuckled.

She glanced up from her plate to see her father's brown eyes shining down at her. "Well, I think you should fill us in on your final year. What classes did you excel? What ideas and dreams have you conjured for yourself, eh?" he replied jovially with twinkling eyes.

"Well," she began, "I did fancy Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, but I don't see a career in that direction, only if I wished to teach...which I don't!"

Jane Granger looked carefully at her daughter. "I was always under the impression that you rather admired your Professor McGonagall. I distinctly recall your mentioning a teaching career."

Hermione felt cornered. "Let's just say I don't want any part in teaching at Hogwarts, so let's drop it, okay?" she snapped back her mother.

"Fine," Jane replied. "What others ideas and dreams do have? You were very passionate about the rights of magical creatures."

Hermione shrugged. "I always thought of having my very own shop once. I wanted to be something of a pharmacist in the magical world. I was good at Potions, but I think it's a silly idea. Research, perhaps for the Ministry, is a good option. I am very comfortable and at home with my books, and I think I could work well in their research and development area."

"Tell me more about this pharmacy business. Aren't there any in the magical world?" asked her father.

"Well," Hermione said as she tried to chew a bit of her lasagna. She swallowed and said, "People usually go to apothecaries where potions are sold, and also for the very snobbish and rich, there are very high-end stores where people can pay for others to find their ingredients to home brew their own remedies. There are some ingredients that are difficult to find and are either rare or can only be harvested at a certain point of the year.

"I thought that would be fascinating, traveling the world and finding rare ingredients for people. It could be quite lucrative, especially if you are very choosy with your clientele. You must have the best of reputations."

Jane Granger laughed. "Who else but you could ever outshine anyone with your reputation? You have always been the model of the perfect young lady. Besides, you are a M-Muggle-born," she said as she stammered to remember the word, "you would be the ideal person for such a business since you can work within the best of both worlds!"

"Mum," Hermione said as she took a sip of wine, "I am not really eager to return to England. To make a real go of it, I must be in Europe. Outside of Europe, I am nobody. If I were to do this right, I would need to be in England, but I don't want to return."

"Why not live on the continent?" asked her father. "France...there is that school there you told us about."

"Beauxbatons Academie," Hermione murmured. "They are in the south. I would have to start in wizarding Paris, I would think."

"Well, why don't you think on it, eh, Hermione?" prodded her father.

Hermione nodded her head and gave a smile. It had been such an old dream, one that she would fantasize about when she had made Polyjuice Potion second year. It had been such a rush stealing those ingredients from...

She stopped her musings and didn't allow herself to think it. Perhaps it wouldn't be a good idea. If she were to be a procurer of potions, she would have to go all the way and be a success. But if she were a success, she would bound to be face to face with Professor Snape one day. It had been ten months since Alice Hermione's birth, and although a day never passed that she didn't think of her, she never willingly wanted to think of him, but he was always lurking around in the dark corners of her mind.

***

That night the nightmare came back to haunt her. She hadn't had one in nearly three months and thought she had evolved past them; however, she found herself back on that dungeon floor, the burlap bag on her head, watching her professor force himself inside her; his obvious disgust at her virgin body. Yet, she could not forget the small groan that he had uttered. Hermione knew it must have been at that precise moment a small release of his semen found its way inside of her.

Ironically, that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was later, hearing the jeers directed at her about Professor Snape having sex with that other witch. Hurtful words filled her mind of her worthlessness, her ugliness, and her disgusting example as a female. It could have been borne, if only they had not told her of the other witch. She could only imagine how beautiful the witch must have been as she climaxed. Hermione had imagined in morbid curiosity how he must have suckled her breasts and kissed her lips like a starving man. She saw her professor's face staring down with his piercing black eyes as he continued to have his way with her, his hands gliding over her legs and arms, preparing her, wanting her.

Then the woman became Hermione.

She was the woman Severus was fucking. She wanted to feel good...she deserved to feel good. He owed her.

Hermione would wake up in a sweat, her nipples aching and her clitoris throbbing. To her shame, she would masturbate. What kind of person was she? Why did she feel he owed her? Was it because she had carried his child for nine months and went through agonizing pain to bring that child into the world, and all she had to thank for all that pain was the harsh rending for her virginity, a couple of thrusts, a groan and then a hasty withdrawal?

Hermione cried after she climaxed. She always did. She was so angry. Sex had not even properly been introduced to her before conceiving and having a baby. She wanted so desperately to be loved, but the thought of a man touching her was exciting and terrifying all at once. She hated Severus Snape for breaking her body and mind apart, destroying the dreams she had laid out for herself, and yet, she wanted him to know that it had been her, that it had been her body he had left damaged and bleeding only to bring another woman pleasure. She wondered if she had conceived as well. Was he married now that the war was over? Did he ever think of her, the young woman in the burlap sack?

***

A/N: Snape is coming up next! Please review!