6. Whose Stretching Arms Match the Hunger of Mine

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Wrapped Around Your Finger

Whose Stretching Arms Match the Hunger of Mine

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"With a promise dealer understand all freedoms fade away

To a point of view where many different pathways meet

And we're standing on this precipice with nothing much to save

But the deep blue screams of falling dreams with our next move"

"The Promise" by Arcadia, from the album "So Red the Rose"

"I have to go," I tell him.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"You aren't going anywhere. I am going away for a while."

He looks up from the potion he's making. He doesn't bother to hide his surprise. In the four months that he's been here, I've never said this to him. He's known something is amiss: stupid isn't an adjective that could ever be applied to him. I've been withdrawn from him the past few weeks, battling with my inner demons. He even commented on it, though it was in the form of an acerbic query as to whether I'd grown tired of molesting him. I haven't touched him in a month. I'm sure he's been grateful. I've made my decision.

"I'm going with Harry and Ron. To find a way to prove you're innocent."

He almost drops the vial he's holding, but recovers in time to set it down. He stares at me. "What?"

"You heard me. With or without Albus, there has to be a way we overlooked before. The aurors have their hands full processing the last of the rogue Death Eaters..."

My voice trails off as a sudden vivid memory of my parents flashes through my mind. Their death at the hands of the Malfoys and several others not long after the final battle had been the last straw at the time. Some part of me had thought Severus should have known, should have been able to prevent it. I suppose in a way I blamed him for this lack of knowledge, just as Harry blamed him for what happened to Sirius. And I jumped right on that train of thought in my grief. Like Harry, I was devastated and needed someone to be angry with, and Severus the ex- Death Eater was a perfect target. Add to that all my years of hurt from his behavior, my unrequited longing, and my not too stable mindset... well. I'm not proud of myself. I need help. Or Azkaban. Or both.

I realize I'm about to cry and pull myself together. "So it's up to us."

"I see." I doubt he could have been more astounded if Minerva had jumped out of the cabinet and started dancing a jig. He met my eyes. "Why now? What changed your mind?"

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter."

I can't sort through the expressions on his face. Gratitude? Relief? Hope? He's at a loss for words. I take advantage of that to head for the door.

"You'll be checked on. If anything happens to you the stasis spell will activate until I get back."

"Hermione..."

"Don't," I tell him fiercely without turning around. "If you were even considering it, don't thank me, Severus. I don't deserve it. And don't bother telling me how you're going to turn me in once you've been cleared, because I'm going to do that myself."

Now I do look back at him. I was wrong when I thought he couldn't be any more surprised. Now he looks as though he's in shock.

"Goodbye."

I run from the room as though being chased by Hell itself.

Two months later, I unlock and unward my home to find him sitting in the living room staring at the door.

He looks dreadful. Eyes blurry and lined with shadow, shoulders slumped. I immediately feel concern at this: what happened to him while I was gone? Why didn't the stasis spell kick in?

I shut the door and cross the floor to him, kneeling beside him. He doesn't seem to be aware of my presence. Gingerly I touch his shoulder. "Severus?"

He snaps out of his daze and looks at me. "You're back," he breathes.

I tug on his hands, pulling him out of the chair. He doesn't resist. "Come on."

I take him to the kitchen and fix him a sandwich and juice. He eats like a starving man. Why hasn't he been eating? How the hell long has this gone on?

"I thought they would check on you," I say apologetically, fuming. The Ministry was supposed to have someone look in on him on a regular basis while I was away.

"They did," he answers. "But since it was only once a week, I didn't have any trouble convincing them I was fine. They didn't seem to care much, anyway."

I'm so startled by his condition that for a moment I forgot why I'd been gone to begin with. "Well that won't happen now," I tell him. I put three pieces of paper on the table in front of him. "You're a free man."

He stares at them as though they will bite. I hand him the first paper. "This is an official copy of your pardon, signed by Fudge, which will be entered into the Ministry of Magic records today." I neglect to tell him exactly what the "Golden Trio" had to go through to obtain it. If the Ministry isn't aware that, among other things, we broke into some offices late one night, we should keep it that way.

I pick up the second document. "This is the means of reversing your condition. The official copy, that is."

He takes the paper and regards me quizzically. "Official copy?"

"Well, I also have an unofficial copy which Harry and I um, acquired a few days ago."

He almost smiles. "Stole, you mean."

I shrug. "Semantics."

"Why?"

I sigh. "Because regardless of whether I could get you pardoned or not, I wanted to give you your magic back."

He stares at me intently. "If I were caught performing magic as a servant, you would have been arrested."

"Yes."

He takes the third paper. I draw a deep breath, my elation vanishing. "And that is a confession of my treatment of you while I had you as a servitor." He looks up at me, startled. "I thought it would be best for us to sign it in front of Fudge once your pardon is recorded."

He folds the pardon and puts it in his trouser pocket. Then he reads the reversal again, and I perform the spells. When it's finished I hand him his wand. "You'll be wanting this."

He looks at it, then at me. I have no idea what is going through his mind. He's probably considering hexing me with about a thousand curses.

"You can pack your things and we can go to the Ministry. Unless you... you probably want to do something to me first," I say. I stand before him with my arms outstretched. "Go ahead. I know I deserve it."

He looks at me for a long time. I stand still, wondering what it will be. Cruciatus? Imperious? Maybe he'll even resort to a physical act like a punch. It doesn't matter. I'm ready.

Very slowly he lifts my confession. His eyes impale me with an expression I can't define. As I watch in astonishment, he rips the paper into pieces.

"What the devil are you doing?" I gasp as he uses his wand to further destroy the document. Comprehension dawns. "Oh.. you want to keep this private. But why? Don't you want to see me in Azkaban?"

His face is unreadable. "No."

"You want to punish me yourself, is that it?" I should have expected this. Well. Not much for it. Perhaps Fudge would find a way around it, if I gave myself up, or try to: a sex scandal would cause him lots of problems. There are half a dozen things I could try to do to keep myself safe from the law. But I don't want to run away from what I've done. My honor might be in tatters, but I'm still a Gryffindor.

"All right," I say quietly, lowering my arms. "What do you want me to do?"

He smiles at me. A genuine smile. "Well...I rather like what you did to me that time in the bath."

I feel myself trembling. "You're insane."

He chuckles. "And you're always the voice of reason?"

"You... how can you... Severus, I forced you to do those things!"

He doesn't reply, just looks at me.

"You're trying to drive me mad, aren't you?"

Still nothing.

"You hate me! You hate what I made you do! You called me a Gryffindor bitch!"

"And you are," he says, eyebrows raised.

"Then why are you telling me that you... you..." I can't say anymore. Tears are streaming down my face. "I'm a monster," I whisper. "I used you. How can you want what you say you want from me?"

He sighs, gestures for me to sit down. I hesitate, then do it. He stands and begins to pace. After a moment he looks at me. When he speaks his voice is low and raw with a level of emotion I'd never have thought he possessed.

"When I told you I didn't know about the planned attack on your parents, it was only a half truth."

I stare at him, stupefied as surely as if I'd been hit with the spell. Knots twist in my stomach. I swallow hard. "Which part was the truth?" I ask.

Another sigh. "I knew there was going to be an attack. I just didn't know who the intended victims were. By the time I was certain, it was too late."

"Then why did you lie!" the words burst forth before I can stop myself.

"It wasn't a total lie," he murmurs. "But I couldn't... I couldn't accept another failure. So much had already happened. I couldn't admit that I had made another mistake. So I feigned ignorance of the whole event."

"Because it was easier than admitting you were wrong?" I snarl. "If you'd have told someone..."

"I didn't have time!" he says angrily. "For Merlin's sake, Hermione, do you think that even I'm so heartless that I'd just stand and let that happen? I had to try and track down Malfoy, find out for certain who they were going after."

I take a deep breath. "All right. So you lied. As far as my parents deaths go, you're still blameless."

"Do you truly think that?"

Now I have to pause. Could he have done more? I'm not sure. I spent all this time thinking he knew nothing, only to find out now that he had. Not enough to have saved my parents. But could it have been enough if he'd done something differently? Would it have mattered?

"You see? You don't know how you feel," he said softly.

"I..."

"Admit it, Hermione. What if I'd gone right instead of left? What if I'd chosen black instead of white? One thing, one small thing could have made the difference."

"You don't know that. You did what you thought was best," I insist.

"Perhaps."

"You shouldn't have guilt over it."

He laughs, but it isn't a happy sound. "There's much more to all this than that bit of guilt."

"What do you mean?"

"When I returned after the attack, before I came to find you, I did tell someone I'd known. One someone. No one else."

I stare at him in puzzlement. Albus was gone at that point, most of the Order scattered around doing various tasks, aurors beginning their pursuit of Death Eaters. Who could it...

When I realize, I suck my breath in painfully. "Fudge."

He nods.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "He asked."

He must see the incredulousness on my face, because he gives me a wry smile. "This will come as a shock to you, Hermione, but I'm not a liar. At least... not usually. And I think I had some foolish hope that he might understand the situation."

"And he didn't."

"He didn't come right out and say, but he implied enough for me to know that he thought this was a sign that I was really still loyal to the Dark Lord. We had a... difference of opinion for a few minutes, and I left to find you. But even as I did I had the sinking suspicion that I had just driven a nail into my own coffin."

"Fudge never made this known," I say with a slight frown.

"Not publicly, no. But while you, Potter and Weasley were gone, he started gathering every scrap of evidence he could find against me. That along with my "confession" to him was enough to get me convicted.

"So you see, when I came to tell you about your parents, I was already quite angry with Fudge. And feeling very guilty. I was ashamed, and deeply worried about what Fudge would do. And so I did what I've apparently always done best: I was abrupt. I couldn't bear to see the look on anyone's face if I had told them the real truth. Especially yours."

"But we wouldn't have thought the way Fudge did," I protest. Would we?

"You might not have," he replies. "Potter and Weasley are not quite so rational. Potter still despises me for what he considers my part in Black's death. As for the others... well. I've never really felt that they trusted me on my own merit. It was because of Albus. On the surface: yes, they would all probably say they knew I was blameless. But underneath it all there would have been doubts. Doubts that could've turned into other things."

I nod. "I can understand that you were concerned."

He snorts. "Concerned with trying to save my own skin, yes. It seemed a small matter at the time: it wasn't a total lie. But I added the guilt of the lie to the guilt of not being able to save your parents and the other muggles. And then..."

"There's more?" Good Gods, what else could there be?

"Flitwick." The name is said quietly.

"Oh."

"Yes, I believe you know the story about that," he says dryly.

I blush slightly. Yes, I do: because I'd eavesdropped on him telling Albus all that time ago. I hadn't meant to: I really hadn't. But eavesdropping is often like a drug. Once you start, you can't stop.

"So you know how he was killed in front of me, and I could do nothing."

"That wasn't your fault either!" I say angrily. "What are you, Catholic?"

He manages a smile. "I want you to understand my perspective, Hermione."

"Fine, fine. You've been really beating yourself up over things that you weren't really to blame for."

"I did lie about the attack," he reminds me. "And I was... callous with you."

"Well..."

"Can you honestly say you don't see my reasoning?"

"No, Severus, I do. But I'm confused as to what this has to do with... with what I've done to you."

He looks away for a moment. "Do you remember when you returned from searching for Albus?"

I nod. "You were scheduled for processing at the end of the week. We tried, Severus..." I feel a lump in my throat. We'd testified, protested, begged. Fudge would have none of it, grateful to us though he was. Even Harry had spoken up on Severus' behalf, though he detests him. Nothing worked. It was then that I'd realized Fudge hated Severus, always had despite seeming friendly to him in previous years, and didn't care if we had a note from God. He was taking him down.

There are still aurors searching for Albus, the only one we'd thought would be able to free Severus. Once he'd been altered, The Order had understood my explanation for remaining at home, that I didn't want to leave Severus to continue the search myself. Harry has had his hands full with being married, Ginny having a baby, doing what he can in the area for the Order, and keeping an eye on Bellatrix. Ron and the others had pressed on, but Ron had returned when I owled him. I suppose in retrospect I was lucky that they weren't here to insist on seeing Severus. What would he have said, if Remus or Molly had visited? Would he have told them what I was doing? Or would he have been too ashamed of his condition? Would they have believed him?

"I know you did, Hermione." He glances at me. "But when it became apparent that you wouldn't be successful, I knew it was time to make plans."

"Plans?"

Another sigh. "Of all the immediate members of the Order, only you and Potter qualified for a servitor."

"Yes."

"As charming as Potter finds me, it was reasonable to assume that if he took a servant, he'd choose Bellatrix."

I nod. Severus'understanding of Harry is surprising. Or maybe not. I'm at a point now where I'm no longer certain of what I know.

"Therefore, if I was to truly be kept safe, I would have to be chosen by you."

"And you think I wouldn't have taken you?" Insanely, I feel hurt by his idea that I would've abandoned him.

"Considering you once tried to free all the house elves, I wasn't certain if you'd take me even to keep me from harm," is his bemused reply.

"Oh, now, that's rubbish!" I retort. "You should've known I'd do whatever was needed to keep you from the hands of someone who didn't know your true loyalties!"

"I didn't truly doubt that, Hermione. But some part of me, the paranoid part if you will, didn't want to take any chances. Especially seeing as how you suffered a great deal of humiliation and pain at the hands of Malfoy during school."

Damn his legilimency, I think, wiping my eyes. Yes, I HAD entertained thoughts of taking Draco. In those few moments when anger and vengeance had spiked a thirst in me to drink from their cups. But I wouldn't have let Severus down.

"Tempting, was it not?" he asks gently.

I tilt my head, puzzled. "So how did you plan on ensuring my choice?"

His stare deepens. "Do you remember the last time you came to visit me?"

"Yes. You were very hateful. I was so angry when I left..."

"Is that all you remember?"

I frown. "Yes. What do you remember that I don't?"

"What, indeed." He seems... ashamed? Why? "You started... changing, after this, did you not?"

I consider. "I was tired. I hadn't fully dealt with my parents' death. I was so sick of everything. So angry." I frown again. "I remember I started feeling so angry with you. I told Harry about it. He was happy to listen..."

"Of course," Severus interjects.

"I was blaming you for everything I could think of. Even things I should've known better than to blame you for. The angrier I got, the colder I got inside, and I wanted..."

"Wanted what?"

I shiver. "I wanted to make someone hurt the way I was hurting. I wanted to make someone else suffer like I'd suffered." I stare at him in horror. "I wanted to make you suffer. Sometimes I would wonder why the hell I was thinking this way, but then something else would set me off and I'd go back to not caring, not caring about anything but the rage. I wanted to tear you into pieces sometimes. I wanted to..."

"Possess me?" he prompts.

I blush furiously, remembering clearly that day all those months ago, that fierce aching heat I'd felt, demanding twisted satisfaction. "Yes."

He nods, as though nothing I've just said has surprised him, while I'm sitting here completely shaken. How did he know? How could he...

No. Oh, Gods, please, no...

"What did you do to me?" my voice is so quiet I can barely hear it.

Yes, that is shame I see. Shame on the face of a man I once didn't think could feel shame, or guilt, or remorse... a man I've feared, respected, hated, loved ...

"I cast a spell on you that day. An old spell, from long before wands were used for magic." He smiles sadly. "There was a lot at stake and several things I wanted, so I had to make it count."

I am very still. "I never noticed that. I would've noticed that..."

"What kind of double agent would I have made if I couldn't cast a wandless spell without being noticed by an eighteen year old?" he asks derisively.

Now I'm trembling. I can't stop my body from shaking. I'm so cold I don't think I can ever be warm again.

"I wanted to be sure you would take me," he says quietly. "And I was getting tired of the guilt. I wanted to atone, and you were the only one I'd have that chance with. I also knew that once it was over you'd revert back to your usual self and work to free me, and that you had genuine anger towards me, although you'd buried it deep. I performed a spell that, I thought, would fulfill both our needs."

"What spell did you cast on me?" I ask, trying to keep calm.

"That... is a bit complicated," he says slowly.

"WHAT SPELL!"

"Caelum Velo Tuus Coniveo."

I blink several times. "Heaven... hide your eyes?"

"Yes."

"What the hell kind of spell is that?"

He smiles at my unintentional joke. "As I said, a very old one. It's been used throughout the ages in religions, for one, though that wasn't the original intent and it has other applications. In simplest terms, the caster wants to be forgiven for something, but wishes to do... penance, I believe is the word you'll understand best, to earn the forgiveness, rather than asking for it. The spell must be cast upon someone the person has wronged. That person experiences the desire to... punish the caster, if they don't already have that want. In some way they do, the caster receives indirect absolution, and the spell ends."

He sits, watching me carefully for my reaction. I'm feeling so many emotions right now my mind is nearly as jumbled as when my parents died. Curiosity wins out first, as it usually does.

"Why is it called "Heaven, Hide Your Eyes" if it isn't religious?"

"It's an irony. The caster doesn't want their actions to be noticed by the Gods. They want exoneration from the person they've wronged. The spell was created by an atheist, actually. He felt that if you wronged someone, you should make it right with that person, not some supposedly higher power. Some magical religions use it in conjunction with other beliefs such as formal confession. But it's more about the people involved than a deity."

"Why not just tell the person what you'd done and ask to be forgiven?"

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "That would be a very straightforward thing to do. It's a coward's spell, Hermione. Not everyone who'd like to be forgiven can bring themselves to admit a wrong. Some people let guilt eat them up inside as a way of punishing themselves, because they can't confess. The man who can't tell his wife he's having an affair might buy her expensive gifts to ease the culpability. Not everyone is a Gryffindor."

"But this spell is insane!" I cry. "You could be put through anything by the person you cast it on!"

He shakes his head. "Normally, the punishment level is, how can I put it... on an equal level with the "crime" as far as severity? For example, if you betrayed a small trust, it wouldn't have the same effect as if you'd committed murder."

"So why did I... did it..." Oh, yes. That's the other thing I was thinking about.

Before I know what I'm doing I'm out of my chair and in front of him, my open hand connecting with his face.

"You BASTARD!"

He reaches for me, but I manage to evade him, putting the table between us.

"You messed with my head! You made me want to do those things to you, those terrible fucking things! All this time I've thought it was me, that I'd lost my conscience, thought I didn't care anymore, that I wanted to get some sick revenge on you, thought I was abusing you, violating you, and now you tell me it was all a SPELL!!"

I move to hit him again, but he catches my hands in his. "Hermione, listen to me."

"Damn you!" I scream. "You absolved yourself and damned me in the process!"

"It's not that simple!" he shouts, still holding my hands. "Please, please let me explain."

I subside, leaning against him, tears flowing. "How could you do this?"

He doesn't try to move away, though he doesn't let go of me. I feel my tears soaking his shirt, his skin.

"Normally... this wouldn't have happened. You should have just spent all your time berating me... something of that sort. I didn't realize there were... other issues."

I sniff. "What do you mean?"

"I told you this spell has other uses."

"Like what? What's that got to do with it?"

He doesn't seem to want to meet my eyes. "Because of the nature of the spell, it's also used in certain types of... sexual rituals."

"Sexual rituals?"

He actually blushes a bit. "Domination and submission, punishment for being "bad" in a symbolic way. In this version it's used by consenting parties: well, it should be. It adds some extra spice, I suppose. Regardless of its use, this spell is unique in that it works with both the caster's intent and the recipient's existing thoughts and feelings, if any. It makes it more realistic."

I stare at him. "You're saying that..."

"Apparently, you have had... other feelings for me. Unrequited desire, if nothing else. I have had a lot of guilt. I think this was the spell's compromise."

"By turning me into a heartless dominatrix?" Maybe I would've been better off in Azkaban...

He shakes his head. "You aren't heartless, Hermione. There were times when you almost broke through the spell. I could see it. When you forced yourself on me, you were fulfilling the retribution part. When you started having conflict, the spell started to weaken. That's why you stopped wanting to take me."

"And when I decided to find a way to prove your innocence..."

"The spell ended."

"But..."

"What?" he asks.

"You... you went along with it eventually. Well, sort of," I amend.

He chuckles. "I was... confused at first. Once I realized what was happening... I couldn't exactly tell you. So I played it out, starting with being resistant, then after some time had passed I stopped fighting you. I believe, in a way, this fulfilled your unconscious wants, which began to trigger the penance effect..."

A willing slave. "And so on," I finish. I glare at him. "But what you did was still wrong."

He nods. "I never said it wasn't."

"I don't know what to say about all this," I tell him.

He sighs. "You can turn me in if you like. No one has to know the exact details of the spell."

"But part of me liked what I did to you... didn't I?"

"The spell could've found another approach, had you not been receptive to it," he admits. "Hermione... that doesn't mean you really wanted to hurt me. The spell knew I was willing even if you didn't."

"What?"

He appears to be debating something. When he speaks his voice is hesitant yet sure.

"I didn't eventually give in to you just for the sake of the spell."

Air. I need air, there is nothing in this room for me to breathe... "You didn't?"

"No."

'Well," he'd said, 'I rather liked what you did to me that time with the bath...'

"You enjoyed me..."

"I had an advantage over you, Hermione. I knew what was going on, knew it was my doing in intent if not design, knew what would have to happen for it to work. I didn't have to enjoy it... but... I did. So much of my life has been spent keeping tight control over myself. With the spell, I couldn't do that anymore. Doubtless you thought I was submitting because I thought it was futile to resist you. The truth is that I didn't want to struggle. That might make me depraved, but..." he shrugs. "I've been called worse."

"But I still thought it was wrong, or at least part of me did..."

"The moral part of you. You didn't stop at first because the spell knew. It altered your emotions and thoughts enough to convince you to act it out."

He lets go of me. I throw my hands up. "I don't know where the spell ends and I begin! You say I'd never hurt you, but I must have liked doing this or it wouldn't have worked that way..."

"You never actually... damaged me physically, Hermione. Other than the sexual acts, you treated me like a person, not a possession. And master and servant games are usually just that, Hermione. Games."

"I didn't know that you were willing!"

"I know.

"So I am a monster."

"Why? Because you've had sexual fantasies about having me at your mercy and something I did made you act them out?"

"How did you..."

He rolls his eyes. "Merlin, how can you be so thick? Where do you think the spell pulled from?"

I am blushing. After all I've done to him, I'm blushing.

"It's not as awful as you think," he says quietly. "And as I told you... I enjoyed it."

"So why even tell me everything?"

He glances down. "It wouldn't have been right. It had gone too far. I had to make sure you knew."

"Are you sorry for what you did?"

"I'm sorry you were made to act out things without knowing why. As for the castigation... I can't say I'm sorry about that, because I'm not."

"Even though I might want to turn you in, you still told me."

"Yes."

"Even if I hated you."

"Yes. Do you?"

"Maybe I should," I whisper. "But I don't."

"Then what do you want to do?"

I consider him, thinking about everything he's said, everything I've felt. He waits, watching me. I'm so close to him I can almost feel his heart beating. Yes, my body still responds to his, and now I can see that his responds to mine. No spells, no interference, just real desire. In the end, I give him the answer that we both already know.

"I feel like you need more punishment," I say softly, pulling his yielding lips to mine in a kiss.