7. Obsession

Chapter Seven: Obsession

Grumbling, Harry climbed the stairs of number twelve, Grimmauld Place to investigate the odd thumping noises coming from the library. He could have sworn that he had gotten rid of that Boggart last week. It had been a persistent bugger, though. It had taken him five tries before it finally dissipated. Perhaps he was now cursed with its equally nasty twin.

Harry was shocked to find the library in complete disarray. He ducked just in time to avoid an especially large book as it sailed over a mountain of volumes and landed with a great thunk at his feet. Now it made sense: he would bet his entire fortune that this "Boggart" sported unkempt brown hair, ink-smudged fingers, and owned a rucksack that weighed twenty kilos.

"Hermione!" his voice cracked as another book sailed frighteningly close to his right ear.

His brown-curled Boggart briefly made an appearance over the edge of the massive heap.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked. "Sorry, Harry. Perhaps you had better move over there." She indicated vaguely to his left, out of the line of fire, before her head disappeared. By the incoherent mutterings, he assumed she was about to resume her activity.

Walking gingerly around a couple smaller piles, Harry finally found Hermione sitting on the floor surrounded by several books in various states of examination. Grumbling to herself and chewing on the end of a quill, she tossed another book aside while simultaneously taking notes.

"Hermione!"

She looked at him blankly, seeming to have already forgotten that he was there. "What do you want, Harry? I'm busy."

"Yeah, I can see that." He was used to her absurd fits of search and find. The thing was, she only got worked up this badly when the subject of her research was near and dear to her heart. He had a sinking feeling where this was going. "Wanna take a break?"

"Not really, no," she replied, rubbing more ink on her nose and returning to the book in her hand.

"Hermione. Come on, now. What are you up to?" Harry also knew the necessity of drawing her out of her derangement, even if it was only for short periods of time. He found it kept her a little more sane and connected to the rest of the world.

Sighing in exasperation at not being left alone, she replied curtly, "Well, if you must know, I believe I have found a way to get rid of Severus' Dark Mark."

All right. So he wasn't expecting that. Although, he had suspected it had something to do with the great greasy git she now called her boyfriend.

Harry nudged the toe of his trainers into a crack in the floor tile. "Erm, what do you mean when you say 'get rid of'?"

"I mean eradicate, destroy, terminate, erase, put an end to ... I could quote the entire entry of the thesaurus, if you'd like," she answered in her snippiest tone of voice.

"No need. I get it," he answered, rifling a hand through his moppy hair. "I suppose my next question is why?"

"Why?" Harry cringed, realizing that was entirely the wrong thing to say. Hermione stood to face Harry with hands on her hips. "How can you ask me such a question? Why? Because I don't want to see him suffer any longer, that's why! Because I want him to have some inkling as to how normal people live normal lives, that's why! Because I think he has paid long enough for mistakes he made when he was young and stupid, that's why! Because I love him ... that's why."

Her voice softened at the final admission. Harry toed the floor self-consciously.

"You understand love, don't you, Harry? I know you don't understand me loving him, but I do. I love Severus Snape more than I love myself, and that is saying a lot." Her hands fell from her hips in defeat.

She gazed at the mayhem she had created and giggled. "Perhaps I need a break after all."

"That's my girl." Harry held out a hand and helped her climb over the walls of her prison.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione came down to dinner later that night to find Severus and Harry awkwardly "enjoying" each other's company at the kitchen table. They both looked up at her as though expecting a much-deserved rescue. She glanced at both men respectively and ladled some stew into her bowl.

"How nice to see both of my men getting along so famously." She was tired and felt slightly malicious at the moment. The men shot each other sympathetic looks as they quickly filled their own bowls. In both of their experiences, it was best not to incite Hermione in any way, shape or form when she was in such a mood.

Harry cleared his throat. "Erm, Hermione, how's the research coming along?"

"I'm finished," she replied nonchalantly, the wicked witch of the library having taken her leave. She took a bite of stew, savouring it. She took a few more mouthfuls before saying anything further.

"Did Molly make this? It is positively delicious."

"No," Severus spoke up. "Actually I made it. Would you care for some wine as well?" He poured a liberal amount into her glass.

The two men shot each other a glance akin to worry as she drained half the glass in one go and shoveled another spoonful into her mouth. Harry smirked behind his hand, having seen this type of behavior from Hermione before and sure that his counterpart had not. Although, Severus was putting on quite a show of being extraordinarily calm and patient, and he was determined not to let Harry know that he found this behavior somewhat unusual.

When Hermione finished the stew and wine, she sat back to find both men staring at her.

"What?" she snapped.

"More wine?" Severus poured another glassful, evidently enjoying this newfound facet of his lover. Absentmindedly, she lifted the glass to her lips and drank.

"Well, Hermione?" Harry couldn't contain himself any longer. "Give already!"

Hermione looked over at Severus who had a vague expression of interest on his face, not wanting to appear as eager as Harry.

"Why, Harry, I had no idea you held such an interest in my research," she said saucily. "After all, I believe you found the topic of my research questionable."

"Oh, you wound me," he replied, clutching at his chest. "Now that you are finished having a go at me, will you please tell us, or do I have to get down on my knees and beg?"

She seemed to contemplate it for a second and then gave in. "Oh, all right."

Severus set his glass of wine on the table and lounged back in his chair. "Are you quite finished with your childish banter? I am most interested with what Hermione has to say."

"You should be, Severus." Hermione knew she'd have his full attention once she said what she had to say. "I found out how to get rid of your Dark Mark."

Severus leaned forward in his chair. "What do you mean 'get rid of'?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, vaguely recalling a similar conversation.

Harry interrupted. "I believe she means, Professor: eradicate, destroy, terminate, erase, put an end to..."

"Harry," Hermione warned, "stop baiting Severus, please. This is important."

Severus reclined in his chair, smirking at the reprimand.

"Severus, remember that book I was reading the night you came back from...well, you know, the book with the charm I used?" She did not want to give too much away in front of Harry.

Severus nodded and murmured, "How could I forget?"

"I found a reference to a Dark magic that leaves a mark through which a form of communication could take place, such as a summons or the relay of feelings." She paused for effect before continuing. "It alluded to a spell that could be performed that would reverse the Dark magic, thereby severing the connection. It also alluded to a number of other things."

"What other things?" Severus seemed almost hypnotized by the possibility. Not through lack of trying, he had never found any reference to a Dark mark of any kind.

"Well, it mentioned that the wizard who places the mark draws power from the witch or wizard upon whom he placed the mark. The more people he marks, the greater his power becomes."

Severus let his head fall into his hands and stared at the table. This news weighed on him like a long-awaited diagnosis.

"Also," she continued, a little worried at his reaction, "all the people who are marked are linked, not just to the wizard who marked them but to each other."

Severus sat up straight, his haunted eyes wordlessly burning holes into hers. Hermione reached across the table and grasped his hands tightly.

"Do you know what this means, Severus? I found the spell to rid you of the Dark Mark. When the spell is performed, not only will your mark disappear but so will everyone else's, and ... and the Dark Lord will be left powerless."

Harry sat in stunned silence.

Severus simply stared at the woman in front of him. This woman, the woman that he loved, was going to finally bring him peace. At that moment, this wild-haired, ink-stained girl became a goddess in his eyes.

He stood and leaned across the table. Grasping her shoulders, he pulled her to him and kissed her so hard it hurt. He drew back, only to stare at her with moist eyes, and then drew her roughly into another and more lengthy kiss. The edge of the table bit into her hip with the force that he exerted over her, but it was the last thing on her mind as his tongue slid over her lips with a passion he could not seem to curtail.

"Hey!" Harry shouted. His complaint was barely registered by the snogging couple. "Hey, you two, we eat at this table, for Merlin's sake! Get a room! I mean, go to your room! Oh, bloody hell, I think I am going to be sick!" Harry upended his chair in attempt to exit as fast as humanly possible.

Laughter mingled with kisses as Hermione crawled over the table, their lips not once breaking contact, and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"That was too easy," Hermione gasped as Severus nuzzled her neck, trailing kisses over to her ear.

"You taste like ink," he whispered, tickling her ear. Hermione giggled, trying to nudge him away.

"Not so fast, my little bookworm," he growled. "I happen to love the taste of ink." He nibbled down her neck to the top of her t-shirt. "Especially when accompanied by the scent of books. It is most sexy." He pressed into her to make his point.

Grinding her hips in response, she replied huskily, "I suppose I will have to remember not to shower the next time I do some research."

"What is the point? You will be needing a shower after I am through with you anyway," he purred, thrusting his hardness into her softness. "It's a shame."

"What is?" she asked through the golden haze of passion he was inducing.

"It's a shame that you will need a new t-shirt. This one is so ... becoming."

His voice slid down her spine and pooled between her legs. His words did not register until she felt him rend the shirt from her body. He suckled her nipples with the fervor of a man possessed. His hardness pushed through the layers of their clothing, trying to release itself.

Hermione had but one remaining thought in her head as she grasped her wand and muttered, "Divestio."

Without hesitation, his body found its niche and thrust into her. Hermione wound her hands into his hair, holding on for dear life as he ravaged her body, releasing years of pent up frustration and passion all at once.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione," he crooned through their gasps of pleasure. "You feel so good. Oh, gods ... yes!" His pace picked up as she squealed in wordless acquiescence. Faster and harder, he stroked her body inside and out as her screams began to build in volume.

The table shook with the force of their lovemaking, and the room became alive with their mingled cries and groans. Her nails dug into his backside, drawing him into her each time. Every thrust pushed her toward the precipice, higher and higher as the oxygen became thinner and thinner, until fireworks danced in front of her eyes.

"Gods, you are so beautiful!" he moaned into her ear and flew apart, reaching for her deepest point as she screamed her release, and he felt himself being strangled with the strength of her orgasm.

When her breathing slowed, Hermione cast a guilty look around the kitchen.

"We forgot the Silencing Charm," she moaned, feeling more than a little embarrassed.

"Hmm," he agreed as he released her from the weight of his body. "If it is any consolation, I doubt Mister Potter heard us over the sound of his own retching."

Giggling uncontrollably, they dressed and went to bed.