II

Disclaimer: Just playing with some of my favorite toys is all. I promise to put them back in JKR's toybox when I'm done with them.

"Circe!"

"Merlin!"

"What happened?"

"Oh, God." Hermione knelt down next to Snape and checked his pulse, trying to ignore her quivering hands. There was no intensity in his eyes, just a slack dullness indicative of... "There's a pulse," she said. "It's faint, but it's there." She turned to Ron, who was still staring, wide-eyed, at Snape's body. "Ron, what happened?" she asked with as much gentleness as she could muster.

"Ginny, get your father," Molly said. "Hermione dear, a few inches please." Hermione scooted over, and Molly began to wave her arm, expertly casting diagnostics.

"He doesn't have a concussion or any brain damage. No internal bleeding. No broken bones, either," she pronounced. "We can move him off the floor."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, and Minerva laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Molly was the best Healer at St. Mungo's before she had Charlie. And she had seven children." Minerva helped Hermione to her feet as Molly gently levitated Snape to the sofa.

"Now, Ron..." Molly was saying just as Arthur, Bill, and Fleur came through the door. "Oh, you're here."

"Severus is catatonic..." Minerva started.

Fleur let out a string of French words and put her hands on her hips. Activity in the room halted.

"Fleur?" Molly asked.

Fleur took off her suit jacket with a resigned look on her face. "Who let Victoire read a fairy tale?"

Hermione crinkled her brow and looked at Ginny, who shrugged her shoulders.

"What do you mean, dear?" Minerva asked. "What does Victoire reading a fairy tale have to do with Severus being ill?"

"Professor Snape is embodying the essence of Snow White, by the look of it," Fleur said matter-of-factly. Hermione looked at Ginny, completely confused.

Molly sucked in her breath. "You told us about that..."

"Oui, which is why I'm assuming it's not you or Arthur who read her the story. Charlie? Ron?" Fleur asked.

Ron waved his hand meekly. "I read her Cinderella and then let her read Snow White..."

Fleur nodded. "Just as I thought. I'll need some help," she said.

"Hold on," Hermione said, walking over to Fleur. "The rest of us have no idea what's going on. What's happened to Snape?" she paused. "Why are you saying he's ... Snow White?"

Bill picked up Victoire. "Say goodnight to everyone, honey," Bill said.

"Good night, everybody," Victoire said. Bill brought her over to Fleur, and Fleur kissed the top of her forehead. "Good night, ma chérie. Maman loves you." Victoire waved to everyone as Bill took her upstairs.

Fleur took a deep breath. "The Veela are the Keepers of Fairy Tales. It's part of what gives us our ... allure?" She winked at her husband as he left the room with sleepy four-year-old in his arms. "When one of us reads a fairy tale aloud, we speak it into existence. The essence of the fairy tale goes into the body of the individual who is not only close by but who also is ... similar to the essence being spoken."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm confused. You're saying that fairy tales are real things?"

"They are a rich part of our magical history, dear," Molly said. "It's not often taught at Hogwarts."

"This," Minerva said, gesturing to Severus, "is exactly why we don't teach them. We don't want students going off looking for them and getting themselves into who knows what kind of trouble."

Fleur nodded. "It's best if it is not known that the tales literally exist. They were part of our history once, and the essences...the souls of the stories...were captured within literal forms by powerful witches and wizards hundreds and hundreds of years ago," she said. "The Veela were charged with keeping the forms safe. With that duty comes the power to speak them into existence, if need be, to save the tales."

"Why would someone want the stories?" Hermione asked. The room was silent.

"The person who best knows the answer to that question is currently unconscious," Arthur said quietly. "The tales are sources of hope for millions worldwide, wizard and non-wizard alike. If they were to be destroyed ..."

"The power of the tales would be diluted," Minerva finished, taking a seat next to Severus' body.

"So there are people...dark wizards, I presume...who have tried to steal the tales before?" Hermione asked Fleur.

Fleur nodded. "Thus, the Veela could speak the essences into being to keep the literal forms from the hands of...gueux," she said, looking to Charlie for the translation.

"Villains," Charlie offered.

"Exactly." She took a deep breath and stared at Severus. "But eventually the essences have to be extracted from the humans they've gone into. First, if the person is killed with the essence in them, the essence is destroyed."

"Not to mention the person!" Hermione interjected. Ginny put a gentle hand on Hermione's arm.

"Second, the essence overrides the person's conscious mind. Every body reacts to an essence differently. If the essence is in the body for too long, the person may not be the same ... after," Fleur said.

"So we need to get it out of Snape as quickly as possible," Hermione said. "Or else it'll damage him."

"Not we," Fleur said with a smile. "Tu."

"Why me?" Hermione looked around, confused.

"The ingredients for the antidote must be gathered by either a human being or a Muggle-born wizard or witch," Fleur said.

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione said. Ginny put her hand on Hermione's arm.

Fleur looked at her apologetically. "I don't make the rules. And now, if Hermione and I could have the room to ourselves, I need to explain some things."

"I have a question," Hermione said loudly. "How is it that almost everyone in this room knew about the tales' existence..." she looked pointedly at Arthur, Molly, Bill, and Minerva..."but none of you guessed that this was ... that?"

"I've never seen it happen before," Molly said. "Fleur told us about this years ago but we never expected ..."

"I thought we had locked up all of the fairy tales," Arthur said.

"It's my fault," Ron said, speaking up for the first time.

"No," Fleur said, moving over to put her arm around Ron. "No, it's not. We should have told the entire family. You had no way of knowing what would happen." She kissed him on the cheek.

Everyone cleared out of the room. Minerva gave Hermione a tight hug. "You'll bring him back. You can do this," she said.

"Thank you," Hermione said. She turned to Ginny, who was standing there with a goofy grin on her face.

"Guess who gets to be the knight in shining armour?" she asked.

"Ginevra Weasley..." Hermione started.

"Out, out!" Fleur told Ginny, shooing her from the room.

"Has anyone ever told you how scary you can be, Fleur?" Hermione asked.

Fleur smiled. "Oui. Many times. Now, as to why I made everyone leave." She shut the door and turned to Hermione. "You are the only one who can discover the ingredients and the location of the Keeper."

Hermione crinkled her brow. "I thought the Veela were the Keepers?"

"Generally speaking, yes. We protect the secret. But there is one who is charged with literally protecting the essences. You must gather the ingredients for the antidote and send them to her. After gathering the ingredients, she will find you."

"How will she reach me? Through summoning?" Hermione asked. She shivered. "Can't you only do that if you have a mark?" She glanced at Snape's scarred forearm.

"You care for him, don't you?" Fleur asked.

Hermione looked at the floor, feeling herself flush for the second time that evening. "He's my research partner."

Fleur made a noise that let Hermione know she thought otherwise. "You are uniquely qualified to help him, Hermione. You're smart, quick-thinking. You can go into unknown territory and obtain the unobtainable." She smiled. "Sans peur. No fear."

Hermione chuckled. "I wish I had that same confidence. Are these ingredients hard to get?"

"They shouldn't be. I don't anticipate that there will be dark wizards itching to get in your way, let alone track you through the French countryside," Fleur said. "Not right now."

"I'm going to France?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yes. Now, about that mark. Give me your palm."

Half an hour later, Hermione arrived on the coast of western France, a bit unnerved but desperate to get this quest over and done with. How had she been roped into this? Ah, yes. Muggle-born witch who had the right disposition. Or so Fleur had said.

She zipped up her jacket, cooled by the breeze billowing off the Atlantic, and walked toward the forest ahead of her. Her right palm was still itching. Fleur had emblazoned it with ... something. She wasn't quite sure what. Well, no, she knew what the image was on her palm; she just wasn't sure what it meant.

A blooming rose. They could have come up with something better.

She tried to ignore the anger at having been chosen, at having been sent out of Britain at a moment's notice, but she was also trying to ignore the excitement at having made a new discovery. Fairy tales. Honestly, who would have thought?

... Severus. Snape. Severus. Snape. Shit. She shook her head. She didn't know what to call him anymore. If Hermione could paint a picture that looked like today, she would paint one of those messy murals where the artist just threw paint at the wall to see where it would land. Blue, her conversation with Ginny. Red, her argument with Snape... Severus...whatever. Yellow, her arrival at the Weasley's. Fear...

What color was fear? Black? Black...her feeling when she walked into the sitting room and saw Severus lying on the ground.

She swallowed. Why him? There had been plenty of other people in the Weasley home. From what Fleur had explained, the essence wouldn't just go into the person nearest to the speaker; it also took into consideration temperament.

How the hell is Snape like Snow White?

Images of the Disney film came, unbidden, to her mind. She almost laughed at the thought of Snape whistling while he worked. Not to mention the thought of him in an apron ...

She walked deeper and deeper into the forest. There was no moon and the darkness was absolute. She whispered a spell to heighten her eyesight and another to eliminate the noise her trainers made. And another for warmth. Why on earth had she agreed to go on this quest immediately?

Because bodies react differently to essences.

She didn't think Snape was the type to react well to something trying to take over his soul.

Best get a move on. Fleur had said there would be a grove somewhere.... She pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket. "Point me," she whispered.

East.

She walked for several minutes before being hit on the head with...

A falling apple.

"Seriously? That's the first clue? " had been her words to Fleur, who had looked at her sternly and reminded her that each antidote had to contain an ingredient particular to the essence that had been released.

Hermione still thought it was ridiculous. With a sigh, she muttered, "Lumos. "

She sucked in her breath as light illuminated the black space. Before her spread an apple orchard with no end in sight...lush, plump red apples ripe for the picking, shining almost eerily. And she only needed one.

Hermione strode toward the tree furthest to the left; it was positively enormous and seemed to have the best apples, and quality had to count for something. She took a moment to savor the scent of ripe fruit, the feel of the dewy grass beneath her feet. Taking an apple from the enormously engorged tree, she sniffed it, buffed its skin on her trouser leg as if it were a cricket ball, and, with determination, pressed the apple to the blooming rose emblazoned on her hand.

It disappeared.

Hermione jumped about a foot. "Holy..." Her heart started racing. Fleur was right. Oh, goodness. She took a deep breath. "Breathe," she told herself. "Breathe."

So the ingredients would travel through the symbol on her palm to the Master Keeper to brew ...

Shaking her hands, she started to walk deeper into the orchard, trying to calm herself down. Reaching up randomly, she plucked an apple and started eating it. Delicious. She walked and ate, trying to ignore the terror of the black night sky and the rising fear that she wouldn't find the clue as to where to go next, when she glanced up and halted.

Standing before her, in the middle of the orchard, was a cottage.