Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.

'If a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out.'

Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice

Day Four

Severus heard her thrashing in the night. Roused from his slumber on the couch, he padded across the floor and opened the door to his bedroom.

'Leave me, leave...'

He approached the bed and saw tears streaked across her face, even though she still slept.

Sitting on the bed gently so as not to wake her, he cradled her head against his chest, felt the wet of her cheeks through the thin cotton of his shirt. 'Hermione,' he murmured and rocked her until the words stopped, until they were wrapped only in breath and moonlight, and against his better judgment, he lay down with her and tucked the curves of her body into his own, shutting his eyes to preserve the tendrils of possibility that wove around them in moonbeams.

*

When he awoke in the morning, a hand was circled around his erection and a tongue was lapping at his nipples...he knew he'd gone to bed with a shirt ...

One silent spell later, Clíona was on the floor licking her wounds, and he was doing his damndest to attempt modesty as he climbed out of the bed.

'Any sex with a mortal must be consensual, as you well know,' he said sharply. 'That will not happen again.'

'But you surprised me, Severus,' Clíona said, batting her eyelashes. 'I do so love waking up next to you.'

He strode out of the room, strands of dignity intact, thinking that even with this morning's episode ... falling asleep with Hermione in his arms had been something. Something indeed.

*

Severus spent most of the day in the laboratory, experimenting with as many potions as he could within the hours that constrained him. He wiped his brow with a sweat rag; his shirt was soaked, and he stripped it off as well. Potions was a physical business as much as it was a creative one, and he debated going upstairs for a shower. Instead, he cast a cleansing charm...he simply didn't have the time. If only he had a Time Turner.

*

Severus didn't Summon Hermione for dinner. He didn't have the heart to tell her that his efforts had still proved fruitless, that he was no closer to finding a cure than he'd been days ago. Besides which, last night had scared the hell out of him. He hadn't counted on the intensity, on the tug he felt in his heart and his groin every time they spoke. She wanted him...he was confused as to the true nature of her feelings, but he was relatively certain that her want went beyond mere want ... he simply didn't have the energy to deal with it. Not tonight.

Truth was, he didn't know if he had the self-control to resist her desire. Last night had been a mistake, falling asleep with her body moulded into his, all soft curves and winding roads that made him feel like a car careening off a cliff. He couldn't touch her anywhere; one mere brush would set him aflame, and Merlin only knew how quickly his reason would disintegrate, how intoxicated he would be the wonder that was Hermione, how quickly he might forget that sex was the way Clíona most desired to secure Hermione's body for herself.

So he steeled himself for what was sure to be a rousing dinner with Clíona. He'd barricaded himself in his laboratory and worked in blessed silence, and he felt that he had stored up enough energy to handle her.

'No witch tonight?' Clíona asked as she sat down to the meal, and Severus snorted. 'Don't tell me that you are coming to prefer my company to hers.'

'Hardly.'

'So tell me about your day.'

'Did no one ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full?' Severus asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. 'I've no intention of discussing my day with you.'

'Isn't that what couples do?' Clíona asked, and he rolled his eyes. 'Surely you have questions for me, Severus,' she started. 'Remember, I can access the witch's memories. Isn't there anything you're dying to know?'

Severus considered the offer. He couldn't ask the questions he wished most; that would betray her trust. But there was one issue that had been nagging him.

'Why has she been hearing the banshee's call?'

Clíona clapped her hands, delighted. 'Well, I can answer that one myself, but it's a nice start. It's simple: she's in a rather dangerous line of work. She gets flown into war zones, essentially, places where the fault lines between wizards and Muggles are fracturing. The nature of her work varies, but most of the time, she could be killed at any moment. She's like you in that she operates in the shadows; she's not like you in that she's too headstrong to pull back at opportune moments. She risks exposure frequently.'

He'd suspected as much. His heart was racing; it was one thing to feel for a woman and quite another to feel for a woman constantly throwing herself in front of megalomaniacs.

And quite another to feel for a woman who worked for one. His lips tightened; he was not overly fond of Hermione's boss, no, he was not.

'What else?' Clíona asked, her foot caressing Severus's under the table.

He jerked away from her, remaining silent.

Clíona sighed. 'Be that way, then.'

Severus smirked. Perhaps he was exhausting her, as well. The thought warmed him.

Day Five

He awoke the next morning with that feeling in his gut that told him today would be an off day. And it was. In the laboratory, he not only failed to find a cure...he failed to complete a potion. His hands were unsteady; his concentration was lax. In the kitchen, he suffered similar problems. He cut himself with a knife while he sliced his tomato...a perfectly rote task he had mastered at the age of eight. And Clíona ... Clíona was silent. He found himself watching her, waiting; she must have something up her sleeve. It wasn't like her to leave him alone, unmolested, for so long, and while he was grateful for the reprieve, he was desperate for some semblance of normalcy.

When he could take her silence no more, he presented her with a vial of the draught that would Summon Hermione. She agreed to take it, but instead of reminding him that she'd soon be back, she asked to go to her room for a minute. When she emerged, she took the draught in her hand, but she looked at him strangely. 'When was the last time you remember seeing Hermione? Before the wedding, that is,' she qualified.

He folded his arms across his chest. 'A year ago,' he said. What was she getting at?

She grinned at him like a Cheshire cat. 'Well, Hermione saw you six months ago. Saved your life, in fact. You should ask her about it.' And she downed the draught before he could reply.

That such a move was bloody unfair of her was the only coherent thought going through his head as he watched Hermione slowly come back to herself. He didn't know whether he should be angry or curious or numb or...six months ago. What had he been doing then? He hadn't been out of the country; he'd been in his laboratory in the Ministry, doing the sort of research they bloody well paid him to do.

If she was involved, they'd lied to him. His hands clenched. He'd told his boss he didn't want to work with her anymore. His boss also knew his opinion of her bloody group.

By the time Hermione resurfaced, he was seething.

'Severus?' Hermione asked. 'How has she been today?'

She gasped as he knelt in front of her, menacing.

'Six months ago. You were watching me. You saved me, apparently. Explain yourself.'

Her face crumpled...she'd always been a terrible liar. 'She told you?' she asked, finding her voice. Her eyes lit up. 'What a bitch.' She stared down at the floor. 'You did not need to know that.'

He rose and walked towards the kitchen, pacing, before leaning into the doorway, arms folded. 'I'm waiting, Hermione.'

Her nostrils flared. 'How dare you! You Summon me without telling me anything...what day it is, how she's been, how I've been...you just bloody well ask me about things she's obviously been spilling to you! That's selfish,' she said. 'What else has she been telling you? And what have you been asking? You want me to believe you're being honourable about this, Snape, and yet you interrogate me about something I didn't even have control over!'

'If you saved my life, it sounds like you had some semblance of control,' he said through gritted teeth.

'Oh spare me your poor, wounded male ego,' she said, waving a hand. 'You're damn straight I saved your life. So consider this situation debt repayment.'

'Are you going to tell me about the mission?' he asked.

'You'll have to douse me with Veritaserum first,' she spat. 'Suffice it to say, the Ministry keeps closer ties with my group than they've let on. And I volunteered for the honour of watching you, perhaps because I missed you, in spite of how you'd treated me in my own home...and I almost died saving you. Have that on your conscience, you miserable bastard.'

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Severus scarcely had time to collect his thoughts and begin the process of organising that conversation and all that bloody woman talk when her door opened and she stalked out, furious. The magic radiated off her in waves, and her curls were practically bouncing of their own accord.

'What. Is. This?' she asked, holding a note.

A note. Oh Merlin.

'Clíona has been meddling, I take it.'

'It seems that she wanted to explain a few things that you've somehow forgotten to tell me about,' she said.

He inhaled sharply. 'What is there to explain?'

'So much for this situation being debt repayment, you trying saving my life and all...seems like I'm in this bloody situation because of you! Here I was blaming myself for not dealing with the banshee's wail earlier, and it turns out that I am perfectly irrelevant, aside from the fact that I'm a woman you're attracted to. When were you planning to tell me you were like some bloody Colin Firth for banshees?' she asked, waving the note as if to punctuate every word.

He sat down.

'Were you planning to tell me that no, this isn't completely my fault? Were you planning to take any responsibility?' she continued. 'And were you ever planning to tell me that your physical restraint is because sex can make this permanent? Here I was thinking I was stupid, that I was inconveniencing you with all my advances, that I was reading every situation wrong, that no, you weren't as attracted to me as I was to you, in spite of your nice words, most of which I can't remember because I just bloody wanted your hands on me. And now I find out that maybe you do care and have just been a fucking coward about it...'

He looked up at her, eyes flashing. 'You've got some nerve, accusing me of being irresponsible with this. Have I not put myself under house arrest in my own home in order to protect you, to keep Clíona from seducing less discriminate men who would not realise that they were eradicating your very existence? Have I not spent every waking hour in the lab, seeking a cure? Have I not shown you that I care? You say this revelation is news to you; do you not see how I have sought to exercise self-control, how I have resisted your touch and advances? How dare you accuse me of being cavalier with this! If anyone has acted cavalierly, it is you.'

'Oh, what the...'

'How many men did you dance with at the wedding?' he started, barging ahead without thought to consequence. 'How many lovers have you taken in the last year? How do you explain the man at the door the morning after that night?' he hissed. 'I came back for you and he was there...'

'Yes, you came back, didn't you?' she nearly shrieked. 'You wouldn't even hear my explanation, you bastard! He was an old...an old lover, to put it bluntly, coming to visit. We had a cup of coffee, and then he left, and yes, he gave me a goodbye kiss!' At this, her eyes faltered, and her shoulders slumped. She looked as if the fight had gone out of her, and it annoyed him, because he was bloody riled up.

'And I could have died when I saw your face because oh, Severus, I wanted you to find me so badly, and dear God the timing could not have been worse! That kiss was nothing, I swear.'

They stood there, breathing heavily, the air full of anger and frustration and things unsaid and promises broken and underneath it all, the taut thread of tension, threatening to snap at any moment.

And then the grandfather clock chimed.

He broke, pushing her against the wall, her arms scrambling up his back, legs twining around his as he ground against her, his lips on her neck, her lips on his collarbone.

'Why didn't you just let me explain?' she murmured against his lips.

'Hermione...' he choked. 'I was a fool. I...'

Cold water washed over him.

The grandfather clock. How long had it been since he'd Summoned her?

'Clíona,' he said, his voice dead.

She sighed and straightened herself. 'Almost had you going.'

He stepped away and ran a hand through his hair. Dear God, what was happening to him? How could he not tell the difference?

'Now you know that she wants you, Snape, almost as badly as you want her...trust me, you are not unwelcome in this body.'

He shuddered and fled the room.

*

He sat at his desk well into the night, examining his notes by candlelight. He made every effort to not think, to not feel. Curiously, Hermione still consumed his every thought, and his emotions rose and fell as he replayed their conversation. He sought to analyse just as he longed to forget, and he cursed the paradox she had created.

When he could stand it no more, he stumbled to his bed.

*

He awoke to find Hermione...Clíona, he reminded himself...lying next to him.

'Severus,' she said, her fingers tracing tiny circles on his chest. 'Severus, it's me.'

He put a hand to his head. Gods, why did these sorts of things always happen to him? It wasn't Hermione...he hadn't given her anything...which meant that Clíona was working on a better impersonation.

Merlin help him.

'Severus, please believe me,' she said, and when he looked down at her, there were tears in her eyes. 'I fought my way through, I pushed her down, this is me, Hermione...'

She inhaled sharply as he took her wrists in his hands, not gently, either.

'I don't know how you broke the barriers on my room, but I am taking you back to yours.'

She grabbed at him as he tried to rise up, and she pinned his body down to the bed with hers. 'I love you,' she said. 'Please, you have to believe that this is me and not Clíona. Gods, what can I say to make you believe me?'

Pushing her off him, ignoring her words, he rose, and he tugged at her leg and drew her to him, holding her tightly in his arms as he strode out of his room, and she began kicking at him. 'Let me go! Severus, let me go! Don't treat me this way! This is how you treat her...'

'Don't presume that you know me, or that you know Hermione well enough to impersonate her. And don't use words you don't understand,' he said, with as much malice as he could summon, which at the moment was quite a lot.

'What? That I love you?' she asked as he deposited her on the bed. He Summoned his wand, and her eyes grew large and she reached for him, getting a firm grip on his hand, tugging him down to her. 'Severus, don't do this. I love you. I mean it with every fibre of my being, and I'm so sorry about what happened last year. I wish we could take it all back, it was a terrible misunderstanding, but this is our chance to start over. I'm not asking you to declare anything, I just need you to hold me right now, for as long as I'm here...'

He bent over her and looked in her eyes, deflecting her hands as she tried to reach for him. 'Bitch. Go to hell.'

She started crying, then, and he was sick of the theatrics. Clíona was obviously stronger if she thought she could successfully pull this off, and he waved his wand over her and put her into an enchanted sleep, so that he at least could rest.

Day Six

The next morning, he walked into the kitchen. Clíona was sitting there, buttering her toast, and something in her face made him pause as he passed her by.

'You're cheerful this morning,' he commented. It was dangerous to engage her in conversation, yes, but it was more dangerous not to.

She let out a cackle. 'Oh, I am.'

'The midnight rape might have something to do with it, mm?' Severus asked.

'It was only an attempted seduction, Severus, don't be so dramatic,' Clíona said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 'It was her, you know.'

He paused, staring at the cabinet. 'Do not jest with me.'

'But it was. She expended almost all her energy to push through, and you rejected her,' Clíona said, tsking. 'She's extraordinarily weak now and has a bit of a broken heart on top of it, poor dear.' She patted her mouth with her napkin. 'You can do your wand waving and see. She's almost gone.'

Severus stared into the open cabinet, his mind a blank, not even realising the rage building up within him until the jar of blackberry jam he held cracked and spilled all over the counter.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the sticky jam on his hands, her words playing over in his mind. Severus, it's me. I fought my way through. Please believe me.

I love you.

He turned to Clíona. 'I don't believe you.'

'That it was her or that she's weak?' Clíona asked.

'The former.'

Clíona cackled. 'Oh, Severus. For such an intelligent man, and with such an arsenal of books at your disposal, have you not read, have you not seen? I can access her memories, but when have I ever been able to access her emotions? I couldn't make this body cry if my life depended on it.'

She was playing. She had to be. Last night hadn't worked, he'd seen straight through her, so for her to say this meant she was desperate; her admitting ...

Or ... or ...

He could not bear to consider the possibility that it was Hermione he'd been rough with, that it was Hermione he'd spoken those words to.

He...he could not.

He didn't trust his own eyes anymore. He didn't know what or who he could believe.

He needed to find a way to expel her. Today.