Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.

'Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death.'

...Jane Austen, Persuasion

Day Two

His first thought was, the sun is bright. Then he remembered...Hermione. He sat up quickly and looked about, but he didn't see her. She must have already woken and gone to the house. She'd have a bitch of a hangover, if memory served.

He rose slowly and stretched, his heart tight. He'd been cruel to her yesterday...had meant to be cruel, truthfully, even though he supposed he was as responsible as she for the situation in which they found themselves. Well, they were both responsible.

Dear God, she'd said she'd been drunk because of him, and images of his mother rose to his mind before he could stop them. He shook his head. He would apologise for his behaviour, brew her a hangover potion as repayment, and leave immediately.

But she'd followed him to the harbour. Then again, she'd been drunk. Quite drunk, in fact. She'd have said anything in that state.

This is what Severus told himself.

*

He walked up to the Rectory and was surprised to find Cian sitting on the patio, drinking what looked to be a mimosa. Cian grinned as he approached. 'Got lucky, old man?'

'What kind of wedding night was it if you're sentient at this hour?' Snape asked in return.

'We were too bloody exhausted to shag, and I don't care who knows it. Should be up to it by this afternoon,' Cian said as Severus collapsed in the chair next to him. He cocked his head. 'Rumour has it Hermione followed you down to the harbour last night.'

Snape glared.

Cian leaned forward. 'Look, it's not my place, but I remember how it was with you two, before. How you...'

'Like you said, Cian. It's not your place.'

'Manners be damned, you made it my place a year ago when you showed up at my door drunk over a woman you'd spent a week with...'

'Enough. You push too far.' Snape ran a hand through his hair. 'Where is she? I owe her a hangover potion.' And an apology, he thought, not that he was going to admit that.

'Haven't seen her,' Cian said. 'Might want to check with Katie. Hermione could have checked out by now. I know she wasn't planning to stay long.'

'Checked out?' Snape asked. 'She would be terribly hungover this morning, Cian, there's no way she would be ready to...' His eyes drifted toward the harbour, and his stomach dropped. 'Dear God,' he muttered, and he knocked the chair over, he bounded out of it so quickly to sprint towards the harbour.

It was clear to him the minute he arrived at the spot they'd slept what had happened. Two spots were worn where they'd slept, and then she'd inched closer and closer to the harbour and...gods, upturned earth. Upturned earth. Too riotous for a mere slip into ... she must have been dragged ...

He let out a sibilant whisper as he knelt at the water's edge, steeling his resolve, doing everything but biting his fist in frustration. A moment later, a mermaid surfaced and immediately met his eyes. He snorted. A mermaid's enchantment was child's play for an Occlumens.

He beckoned to her, and when she came closer, clearly interested, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her torso out of the water, and immobilized all but her head.

'Where is she?' he asked, doing his best not to yell. 'Where have you taken her?'

'Snape...' He heard Cian's voice. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Hermione fell asleep, and there are marks where she was clearly dragged into the water,' Snape said, teeth clenched as he stared into the mermaid's eyes. 'She must have been dragged by a mermaid. There are no other creatures in this sea.'

He tightened his grip on the mermaid's neck, and she gasped for air more quickly now.

'Where?' he asked.

'Severus, let her go.'

'No.' Snape gritted his teeth.

'There's a body on the shore,' Cian said, and Snape practically threw the mermaid back into the water before running to the distant spread of shore where a body had clearly washed ashore.

It was Hermione.

'Hermione...' he said, holding her face with his hands. 'God, no.' He felt for a pulse.

There was none.

He kept his fingers on the pulse in her neck as he leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes shut tightly, and the avalanche was coming, he felt it, and he couldn't hold it back, no matter that Cian was standing right behind him, silent for once, and...

He felt it, faint beneath his fingertips. His mouth gapped open a little with shock, and he immediately leaned back.

'Cian, a pulse. Would you make sure?' he asked, leaning back to allow his friend room.

Cian knelt and felt her neck. 'It's there. It's faint, but it's there.'

'God, Hermione,' Severus said, taking her face between his hands again. 'Ennervate. I'm here. Hermione, listen to my voice. Come to me,' he said, hoping he was commanding, hoping it worked, hoping ...

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked into his eyes, and he could have cried with relief, and he cradled her in his arms, forgetting that Cian was there, that there were one hundred people in the house, gods, he'd almost lost her, and all he wanted to do was...

'Severus,' she hissed, in a voice not her own, and there was something in her eyes that gave him a chill; this was not tender, was not even the battle-hardened woman he knew. This was something else. Her hand ran up and down his back, and he was frozen, shock still in the unknowing.

'Hermione?' he asked, his voice tepid, and before he knew what was happening, she'd pulled him down to her, and his lips touched hers, but it was not a kiss, it was something fierce and possessive. He broke away, gasping, and instinctively cast a silent Petrificus Totalus.

'Well, you clearly made a good impression,' Cian said, and Snape held up a hand as he rose to his feet.

'Something's wrong.'

'Because she tried to kiss you?' Cian asked.

'No, just...try and sense something, will you? You're an Unspeakable, man! Something is not right.'

He and Cian cast several spells to ensure that she was physically well, at least, and, satisfied, Snape transformed the immobilization into an enchanted sleep so that her body went slack. He crouched and, hooking her knees with one arm and supporting her torso with the other, lifted her into his arms and made to carry her back to the house.

When he and Cian were half way there, he stopped.

'I'm taking her to my home, Cian,' he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Cian paused. 'I'll have her things sent. Let me know if you need me.'

Snape looked down at the beautiful, sleeping woman in his arms and Disapparated.

*

He laid her down on the bed and folded his arms across his chest. He'd have to bring her out of the sleep sooner or later, but he wanted to make sure of a few things first. He waved his wand and cast diagnostics; there was no evidence that she'd been hexed, manipulated, or drugged. But his lips tightened as the problem made itself known in a kinetic, frenzied arc of colours that spiralled without settling. Her magical signature...she was still here, but it had been altered.

He summoned a vial of Veritaserum from his stores and willed himself to not break the fragile vial that flew into his hand. Taking a deep breath, he put his wand to her temple and whispered, 'Ennervate.'

He parted her lips as she awoke and tipped a few drops of the serum down her throat, his heart racing. Her body was still sluggish from the enchanted sleep, but he sent rope flying out of his wand, magically securing her hands and feet to the bed, just in case. He stood at the edge of the bed, arms crossed.

Her eyes finally focussed on him, and she arched an eyebrow. 'Well, if you insist,' she said, staring at the silky black ropes.

'Who are you?' he asked, his voice steady.

'Hermione Granger, of course.'

'Who else are you?' he asked, going with his gut.

'Someone who wants you,' she said, tilting her head, baring her neck to him.

He sucked in his breath. 'You may look like her and sound like her, but you are not her,' he said.

'Oh, you're good...oh, your voice...'

As if he needed any more confirmation that this was not Hermione.

'Where did we first meet?' he asked.

'At Hogwarts. I was your student.'

'When was our first meeting after Hogwarts?'

'In Prague, two years ago,' she said, straining against the ropes, looking entirely turned on. 'Oh, Severus, come here.'

'You're going to have to do a better job of impersonating her if you want me to believe you.' He put a hand on the bedpost and steeled himself against the sight. It was her body, but it was not her...she was in there, somewhere, he knew that, her magical signature showed up, but this was not the Hermione Granger he knew.

She wasn't turned on by restraints.

He Vanished the ropes and was mildly annoyed that she didn't sit up, but rather turned on her side as though to seduce him. 'Why do you want me?' he asked, trying a different tactic. Something about her was familiar...something about the signature that was overriding Hermione's was on the tip of his tongue, something about the way the magic was blending with hers just seemed like he'd seen it before ...

She looked as though she was choosing her words carefully. 'Because you are unlike any other man of my acquaintance.'

He snorted. 'And how long have you wanted me, precisely? How many years?' he asked, relying on the serum's capacity to summon specificity.

'Oh...decades.' The answer sounded strained, as though she was fighting the revelation, but his heart started racing. This was the right track.

'Are you a spirit?'

'Not precisely.'

'An immortal, then?'

Her face pinched. 'Yes.'

He took a deep breath and stroked his wand, considering his next question. 'Are you a goddess who specifically inhabits Ireland?'

'Usually.'

'Then you are the patron of something, or you're tied to a family. Who, precisely, calls to you?'

'The...the O'Donovan clan.'

Severus stilled. 'Cian's mother is an O'Donovan,' he said.

'I know.'

He paused. 'Did you possess Hermione in Glandore Harbour?'

'Yes.'

He suddenly felt as though cold water washed over him. 'Is it because you once drowned in Glandore Harbour while waiting for your mortal lover to return?'

Her eyes lit up. 'So you do remember me. It's wonderful to finally meet you, Severus. My sisters found you most enchanting ... once.'

'Tell me, Clíona, what the Queen of Banshees wants with the body of Hermione Granger?' he asked.

'Well, the Queen of the Banshees wants you ... which makes this particular body most desirable, doesn't it? For you want her,' Clíona said, her hand slowly tracing the curve of her body. 'And besides ... oh, but she didn't tell you, did she?'

His hand was at her throat before he knew what was happening. 'Tell me what?'

Clíona grinned up at him like a Cheshire cat. 'Why, she's been hearing the wail of banshees ever since she stepped foot on Irish soil.'

He caught her chin roughly in his hand and wrenched her eyes to his. 'Legilimens.'

He recoiled as his body was thrown across the room and flew into a wall. He crumpled to the floor, heaving.

Clíona cackled. 'This might be a mortal's body, but it is being possessed by an immortal...my thoughts are unreadable to you, and while I am in control, I can mask hers, as well, so don't even think of trying that again.'

'So your sisters want Hermione,' he said, keeping his voice level as he stood. 'What do you want with me? Haven't you killed enough mortal lovers already?'

'Such sarcasm, Severus,' she chuckled. 'After all, I only killed one,' she said.

'You have a habit of drowning,' Severus said.

'I chose to go back,' she retorted, eyes flashing. 'Do not speak of what you do not know, wizard. Don't presume you know anything true.'

'Then believe that this is the truth: I will not become your lover,' he said, eyes flashing.

'But you would like to become hers,' Clíona said, her hand trailing down her stomach towards...

He grabbed her hand. 'Don't.'

'Don't you see, Severus? You can have her body without the inevitability of her rejection.'

He leaned over her, menacing. 'Don't even think I would want her body without her soul.'

'But Severus,' Clíona pouted, and gods, he had to look away. 'Your witch would be dead if I hadn't saved her. She was so drunk, so dead to the world because of you, she would have drowned in the harbour before you were even awake at her side. And you'd have no one to blame but yourself.'

'You cannot guilt me,' he said. 'One of your mermaids dragged her into the harbour.'

Clíona raised a hand innocently. 'Well, she was a restless sleeper. She could have fallen in. Mull that over while you come up with ways to restrain me.'

'You're terrible at wooing,' he said flatly, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against the door, cast his Patronus, and held his wand to his neck. 'Please come,' he said, and the phoenix disappeared.

*

Cian was on his doorstep in moments. 'Good God, man, what's happened?' he asked. 'If you're summoning me from my honeymoon ...'

Severus walked to his bedroom and opened the door, showing Cian the bound goddess.

'Oh, you're bringing your friends by to meet me? How sweet,' Clíona said.

'Cian, meet Clíona, Queen of the Banshees, patron goddess of the O'Donovans, who has a habit of drowning in Glandore Harbour to escape the boredom of being with her mortal lovers.'

Cian's jaw dropped. 'Bloody hell.'

Severus slammed the door shut and silenced the room. 'Have you brought Hermione's things?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Then I have two things for you to do. First, take her wand. Put it in your vault at Gringotts...just get it out of this house and keep it safe.'

Cian crinkled his brow. 'Are you sure we shouldn't bring the team in?'

'Yes,' Severus said, fist clenching against the doorframe. 'I have seven days to brew something that will expel Clíona from Hermione's body. After seven days, it will become significantly harder to expel her; it's a deadline, of sorts. But there are two other methods by which Clíona can establish permanence, and one is using Hermione's wand. Take it.'

'What's the other method?' Cian asked, arms crossed.

Severus snorted. 'Use your imagination.'

Cian's eyes widened. 'Oh, fuck.'

'Precisely.'

Cian whistled. 'And you ... care about her...'

'Which is why I'm not interested in an easy fuck that would cost me...that would destroy Hermione,' he said, annoyed with himself for the slip. 'Second, you must ward the house so that Clíona cannot leave.'

'But a spell that powerful...you wouldn't be able to leave, either,' Cian said.

'Do it.'

'Listen, Severus...'

Severus shoved Cian into the wall. 'You are not listening. Clíona wants me. But if she cannot get me, she will seek out men, other men with far less scruples, who do not realise that what they are doing will destroy one of the most brilliant witches of our time. She must not leave.' He backed away, breathing heavily. 'My apologies for ... that.'

Cian looked at him strangely. 'I won't say a word, Snape,' he started, 'so long as you think about the extent of your reaction to ... this ... and what that means.' He took a breath. 'I'll do this for you. But I am checking in on you in a few days. If you aren't any closer, I'm bringing in the team. Are we clear?'

Severus nodded, and Cian began the enchantment.

*

Severus spent the night brewing. While his books had not been useful in determining a potion that could expel an immortal, they had elicited several potions that could be used to bring about lucidity in a possessed person. And while he was thinking about it, he'd sent away for several vials of Veritaserum; he was sure he'd go through quite a bit but simply did not have the time to brew it himself.

He stirred slowly, counter clockwise; everything about this potion was in reverse in order to go to the basest thing; it was all in the timing.

He had a few choice questions for Hermione when he ... brought her forth, or whatever you could call this...Summoning a person's self? For one, if Ciona was telling the truth...and he was certain she was, in this instance...Hermione had been hearing the banshee's wail. What on earth was she involved in if she had attracted banshees in such force? He ignored his own past and thought on their time in China; neither had ever fully known what the other was doing...so what, precisely, was she doing that was so dangerous? Travelling the world, invading hostile territories, engaging in out and out combat, or search and rescue missions...or perhaps she was more covert, laying the groundwork for the battles? Or perhaps she was negotiating. He nearly barked a laugh at that; the thought of Hermione working as a mediator was laughable...she was a stubborn woman insistent on having her way.

The banshee's wail ... the nature of her work ... the man he'd seen on her doorstep, giving her a kiss goodbye...

He stilled. He had no right to take advantage of her in such a state...and she was only in such a state because Clíona had sensed his feelings for her, that's what had propelled her to drag Hermione into the depths and send her back to the mainland as something else entirely.

And yet, he could see the man's handsome features.

He had every right to ask about the nature of ... their relationship. He had come back for her and found another in his stead.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he stirred thrice more. The potion was ready.

A/N: Clíona, traditionally spelled Clíodhna, is pronounced 'Cleena.'