Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Not mine, alas.

'I am half agony, half hope.'

Jane Austen, Persuasion

Day Seven

He prayed.

Severus could not recall the last time he had prayed, but this morning he did so. He prayed while he showered, while he dressed, while he brewed coffee. He wasn't sure if it was a genuine prayer, but it was a plea, a request, sheer desperation. He was begging for the right to nurture the feeling that had begun to bud the minute he'd seen her body washed up on the shores of Glandore Harbour.

He made breakfast, but he barely ate.

He walked circles round the house, mentally reviewing his reading, his notes, his discoveries.

Most of all, he attempted to ignore Clíona, who was downright giddy. After she ate breakfast, he locked her in her bedroom and warded the door.

He needed to think. He needed to prepare himself.

He sat down on the couch and wrapped himself in her favourite blanket. He inhaled her scent, and when he felt dampness on his cheeks, he didn't berate himself.

*

An hour later, he lay on the couch, ignoring the sunshine and the birds chirping outside; ignoring the siren song of the sea. He wished he knew a spell to make the weather reflect his mood. The very sunlight betrayed him.

He debated when to Summon Hermione. Should it be at lunch or at dinner? What should he prepare for their last meal? Should he make love to her, since Clíona was going to take over anyway?

He didn't know.

So he closed his eyes and tried to shut the world out.

*

'Well, this is a sight I never thought I'd see.'

He was off the couch in an instant, wand at the ready, and saw Livia standing erect in the kitchen doorway.

'It's good to know I can break wards you haven't set specially for me,' she said, her lip twitching.

'And how long did that take?' he asked, his heart racing.

She laughed. 'Oh, you still best me at wards, Severus. We each have our specialties,' she said, examining her fingernails. 'I never thought to see you wallow.'

'I am not wallowing.'

'Laying on a couch with an angry goddess locked in a bedroom, wrapped in a blanket when you're sweating bullets which means it must have sentimental value, which means it must be Hermione's blanket, coupled with the fact that your cheeks are tear-stained and that Clíona will be taking full possession of the woman you love within twenty-four hours ... I'd say you're wallowing.'

He sat back down on the couch, head in his hands. And perhaps it was that action which caused Livia to cross the room and sit beside him.

'I have a solution,' she said.

He looked up at her sharply. 'Do not jest with me.'

Her eyes flashed. 'You don't have to like me, but I am growing tired of your continued inferences that I don't care about Hermione's well-being, that I would joke about such a thing,' she said. She pulled a very old dagger from her very small purse.

'That doesn't look like much,' Severus said.

'The valuable ones never do,' she murmured, her tone almost reverent. She traced a finger along the blade. 'I've been hunting this dagger for the past decade. I'm thrilled to have found it ... in time.'

'It will trap Clíona's soul?' Severus asked.

'Yes.'

'Will Hermione survive the ... expulsion?' he asked.

'She should.'

He inhaled sharply. 'Should?'

Livia looked at him long and hard. 'These things are rarely predictable. It's a risk we have to take.'

He bit his lip. Not now. Not in front of her.

'At the very least, Hermione will be back in her own body, for ... however long a period of time. I think that will make her happy.'

Severus nodded. 'Should I fetch her?'

'Is she herself?' Livia asked.

'No.'

'I'd like to explain what we're going to do to her directly.' It sounded as though Livia sniffled, although she cleared her throat immediately after.

Severus rose to fetch the Summoning Draught. Perhaps she cared, after all.

*

Severus stood in the kitchen doorway as Livia spoke with Hermione on the couch. The women held hands as they spoke, and while Livia was not tearful, she was clearly affected.

'Who will do it?' Hermione asked. She looked at Severus, questioning.

'I cannot,' he said just as Livia said, 'I will.'

He swallowed hard. 'Thank you.'

Livia nodded.

'What's the next step?' Hermione asked.

'To return to Glandore Harbour,' Livia said.

'Cian has specifically warded the place. You can leave, but we can't,' Severus said.

Livia snorted. 'Surely you don't think me incapable of breaking his wards. You could have broken them if you wanted to.'

A smile twitched at his lips. 'Indeed.'

'I'll lift the wards, and we'll return to the harbour. We'll have to be in the water, so you might want to wear swimwear,' Livia said.

'Ever heard of water repelling charms?' Severus asked.

'Ever heard of mermaids using your clothing against you?' Livia retorted, and he could have cursed himself for forgetting about the mermaids.

'I'm assuming Clíona has to be in control when the ceremony takes place,' Hermione said, staring off into space.

'Yes, she does,' Livia said quietly.

Hermione nodded slowly. 'Then I'd better give you this now.' She hugged her boss, and Livia looked slightly taken aback but quickly returned the embrace.

And then Hermione rose and approached Severus, and he ran a hand over her hair once she was close.

'Hermione,' he whispered.

'I love you,' Hermione said, looking into his eyes.

He bent his head and brushed his lips to hers, his fingers knotted in her curls.

'That's a promise,' he murmured. 'Come back to me.'

'One way or another,' she said, and squeezing his hand, she walked into her room and shut the door.

*

Half an hour later, Severus handed Clíona a draught. She batted her eyelashes at him.

'How will you say goodbye to your witch, Severus? Do you have it planned?' she asked, reaching a hand out to stroke his arm.

He recoiled. 'Drink the damn draught.'

She snorted. 'Men.' Her eyes widened as she tasted the draught. 'What is this? What did you give me?'

He smiled at her. 'Goodbye, Clíona. It hasn't been a pleasure.'

And she collapsed to the floor.

Livia stepped in from the other room. 'That's one hell of a sedative, Severus.'

'It'll keep her from struggling and speaking.'

Livia raised her eyebrows. 'Impressive. Can I order it from you when this is all over?'

'Since I bought it from a Muggle pharmacy, I sincerely doubt it.'

'Well, I'll change her in the guest bedroom. Time to get your Speedo on, Snape,' Livia said with a wink, and Severus winced.

*

Minutes later, Livia and Severus stood on the shore of Glandore Harbour, with Severus carrying Clíona in his arms. What a difference a week made.

Livia wore a magical diving suit, a sheer layer that practically fused with her skin, leaving little to the imagination. Severus wore black swim trunks, and Clíona was wearing Hermione's string bikini. He had plans for that bikini when this was all over ... provided it went well.

'Ready?' Livia asked, and Severus nodded. Livia jumped in the water, and Severus laid Clíona on the shore as he slid in. He reached for her and, tucking her arm around his neck, slid her body into the water as well. Thanks to the Muggle drugs, there was little tension in her body, but the magic-less ceremony meant that he couldn't cast a weightless charm.

'Remember what I said. Get her out immediately.'

'Do it,' Severus said, practically growling. He couldn't tread water forever, especially when supporting another's weight.

He barely heard the incantation, but he felt the thrust of Hermione's body against his own as the dagger entered her solar plexus and relished the red glow emanating from the dagger, even in the murky water.

Clíona was gone.

He felt a scaly hand on his shoulder, and when Livia screamed 'Now!' he muttered a spell that shot him and Hermione out of the water and onto the shore. They landed just in time for him to see Livia floating above the water as she cast the most powerful repelling charm he'd ever seen. Mermaids flew out of the water, and he saw tidal pools forming, sucking them down, down, down, far away from the wizard and witches on the shore.

Hermione was sputtering now, and he put his hand over her stomach as if to staunch the bleeding, and he Summoned a bottle of dittany from the bag he'd left on the shore, and he poured the entire damn thing over her wound.

'It might not work, Severus,' Livia said as she laid a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't realised she was there.

Hermione was shaking, and he bent forward and put his forehead to hers, cradling her face with his bloody hands.

'Stay with me,' he murmured, closing his eyes, stroking her hair, begging whatever deities listened to grant them more time.

After a moment, her body stilled, and his heart began to race.

'No ...' he started, and then she opened her eyes. He looked at her and then down at her stomach, and there was no evidence that she'd been mortally wounded mere minutes before.

'Severus,' she said, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. How long they lay there, arms wrapped around each other on the shore, no one knew.

*

Livia Transfigured a blanket and laid it over Severus and Hermione as they slept, and she cast an extra repelling charm for good measure. Best to let them sleep it off.

She twirled the dagger between her fingers, a maniacal grin spreading across her face. She would be losing one of her best employees, of that she was certain, but she'd trapped an immortal.

Seemed like a fair trade.

Six Months Later

He traced his finger along her jaw line, down her skin, between her breasts, whispering sweet nothings into her neck as he did so. He pressed fervent kisses to her shoulder, fingers curling in her hair, delighting in the wonder that was waking up with his wife in his bed.

She awoke with a yawn and stretched her arms over her head, smiling as she saw him watching her.

'Hello, you,' she said, tracing his lips with her finger.

He caught her finger in between his teeth, and she chuckled. 'What shall we do today?'

The hand that lay on her stomach travelled south.

'Aside from that,' she said as he lay down on his side, facing her.

'Perhaps we can swim in the harbour today,' he said, tracing figure eights on her stomach.

'I can't believe we got married here.'

'You suggested it.'

'We're perverse, we are.'

'Damn right,' he said, leaning in to kiss her, and her fingers curled in his hair, and all was well.

A/N: The title is taken from the song "Run to the Water" by Live.

run to the water

these streets below the moon