The Hurt in Your Heart

Disclaimer: JKR owns the rights to anything you recognize in this fic. I wish I did, but alas! Life is like a box of Bertie Bott's. Sometimes you get chocolate fudge, sometimes you get earwax.

AN: Well here's chapter two, I have no clue where this is going, but it probably won't take more than one more chapter to tie up the loose ends. Had to bump up the rating a bit more because, yes, you guessed it, there are lemons in this chapter (aren't you lucky?).

Some of you may wonder about my use of "cryptozoologist" in the first chapter and "magizoologist" in this chapter. To me, a cryptozoologist is someone who deals with creatures that might not exist (ie. they have not been confirmed by either magical or Muggle "science"), whereas a magizoologist is someone who deals with (existent) magical creatures in general.

Severus clung to slumber, but her hand was insistent. He had been so tired when they returned to the village, but the mood of the villagers had shifted considerably when Tobias had told them about Severus' encounter with the bird.

Some of the younger men had gone to break their camp and returned not only with their belongings but also Peter, the man Hermione had injured. He had sprained his shoulder, but was none the worse for wear and even invited them to stay in his home.

They had been set up in comfortable accommodation and fed a warm hearty meal. Severus' fingers had been numb from exhaustion when he had removed his clothes and climbed into the huge bed with its riotous quilt cover a bit later. He always snorted when people used the phrase 'went to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow', but he couldn't even remember the soft sigh of expelled air from his feather pillow when he had settled down.

This hadn't been the dreamless, wrung-out sleep he had after Death Eater meetings for so many years. This was dark, yes, but as warm and secure as if he were an unborn child nestled beneath his mother's heart.

"Severus?" That insistent hand again.

His consciousness clawed its way upwards from the dregs of sleep.

"Mmph?" he grunted non-committaly, tightening his arm around her and burrowing in closer to her warm back. 'Mmm... she smells so good,' he thought distractedly as the faint hint of magnolia wafted towards him when the quilt settled again after his movement. He flexed his crotch against her bum. Maybe waking up a bit more wouldn't be entirely bad.

Pressing a light kiss against her neck, his hand snaked down her body – tickling her ribs, tracing her navel and then following her centre line down to her damp curls. She shivered and opened her legs slightly to give him access, her question seemingly forgotten. His fingers flitted over her clit for a few moments before dipping into her tunnel.

"Mmm... so wet," he rasped appreciatively against her ear, his fingers swirling around her opening before leaving and sliding up onto her inner thigh. Lifting her leg up and forward, he moulded himself to her back before easing his eager cock into her warmth.

What started off in the slow, luxurious rhythm of early morning love making, soon degenerated into a frenzied fucking. He couldn't get enough of her to slake his need; his hands were everywhere – tugging at her nipples, pinching her sensitive clit, digging half-moon nail marks into the skin on her hips.

He bit into his own hand to dampen the strangled moan that bubbled from his throat when he came, thrusting erratically into Hermione a few more times as she cried out her own climax. They shuddered and twitched around and within each other for several long moments, their breath rasping in their throats and sweat glistening on their skin.

He buried his face against her shoulder, feeling the welcome tug of sleep at the corners of his mind again. Her inner muscles were still rippling gently over his softening cock and he wanted to savour the bliss with no distractions.

"Severus?"

"What?" he groaned against her skin.

She chuckled. "It's quarter to eleven. I don't think we can safely feign sleep any longer after that." She emphasized 'that' by wriggling against him. "Surely they heard."

Severus hissed as his cock responded to her teasing almost immediately. She gasped. "Goodness... you're feisty this morning. I should put you to bed early more often."

He moaned lustfully but delicately withdrew his swelling member from her, the friction making him shiver in pleasure. It had been quite a few years since his recuperation time had been this short. The temptation to make the best of this was very strong indeed, but she was right, they had to get dressed and get out there - they were here on business, not their honeymoon. "Sorry, it definitely has a mind of its own today."

She squirmed around in his grasp. "I'm sure they won't miss us for another fifteen minu-" Her lazy smile vanished from her lips, her hand flying to her mouth in shock when she looked at him.

"Severus? Do you feel all right?"

What a stupid question. He was in a warm bed on a blustery autumn morning, he had just had some of the most pleasurable sex of his life (and was apparently ready for round two) and he had had the best night's sleep he could remember. To be blunt, he felt bloody fantastic.

"Yes, I feel fine."

For some reason she didn't look convinced. Had some of the wounds from yesterday returned perhaps? After all, the magic of animals tended to be somewhat erratic because of its primal nature and the lack of conscious thought behind it.

Yes, her fingers were tracing over his brow, her expression changing from shock to wonder to speculation and back to wonder in quick succession.

"What is it, woman?" he asked, annoyed at her reaction.

Hermione shook her head. "You will need to go and look for yourself. There's a mirror on the dresser..."

Severus grumbled as he threw the warm covers away from him, his ardour flagging as the cold air hit his body. In a few strides he was at the dresser and reaching for the old fashioned hand-mirror. The silver was cool and heavy in his hand as he lifted it.

He nearly dropped the mirror in shock, juggling the ancient piece of craftsmanship as it threatened to slip from his grasp. He leaned heavily against the dresser, his chest heaving and his blood pounding in his ears as the surge of adrenaline rushed through his body.

It couldn't be! It just was not possible. 'Says the man who turned at death's door yesterday,' a small voice chided in the back of his head. Severus knew, of all men, he should believe in the impossible. He had witnessed acts of unthinkable cruelty, impossible kindness, inconceivable forgiveness. But this...

The mirror shook as he raised it again. He had to see that it was true, that it wasn't just a figment of his sleep-addled mind. The quivering image was the same as before. He hadn't dreamed it. Shaking with emotion, his eyes drifted down to the wrist of the hand holding the mirror.

He gasped raggedly.

The mirror clunked loudly onto the floor when he collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. Hermione's arms were around him the next instant as he uttered a strangled sob. He didn't want her seeing him this weak. He tried desperately to push her away, but she held fast.

He hadn't cried like this since his father had beaten his mother to within an inch of her life when Severus was five years old. The man had taught him then that tears brought punishment and pain, so they had to be suppressed at all costs. There had been many times when they had threatened to break through his façade – the excruciating pain of his Marking, the relief at Albus' acceptance, the grief at Lily's death, the final fall of the Dark Lord – but in each instance he had controlled them. But now... the sorrow and joy alike were spilling from him in the only way his body knew.

His Mark was gone. The ugly black brand that he had carried for the better part of his life, the tangible evidence of his greatest mistake, was gone.

***

The face that stared back at him half an hour later as he shaved was his, but not entirely. The deep worry lines between his eyes and the etched lines around his mouth had gone, only faint creases still visible. The scar from where Lucius had managed to catch Severus across the cheek with a cutting hex in the final battle - gone. The scars across his chest and shoulders fewer in number as well, but those remaining much ameliorated.

He looked – for lack of a better word – younger. It was as if ten years' passing had been wiped from his face as he slept.

As he cupped water in his hands to rinse his face and neck, it puzzled him why seemingly 'simple' scars like the one on his index finger where he had once nicked himself preparing rat spleens had remained, while his Mark had been eradicated.

He checked his unmarred wrist for the thousandth time in the past forty-five minutes, sure that the Mark would creep slowly back onto his skin as soon as he looked away, like some cruel practical joke.

He sighed and roughly dried his face on the towel, the prickle of tears behind his eyelids again. 'Get a grip on yourself, man,' he mentally hissed at himself in disgust.

Hermione was dressed when he slipped back into their room, but her red-rimmed eyes and shaky smile nearly set him off again. He welcomed her hug, drawing support from her slender frame, able to lose himself in the magnolia haze that drifted from her clothes and hair.

Neither had said anything since he had broken down. They both knew words were not adequate to mark the event. Both just accepted without question, with the faith of children.

He pulled the navy jumper she had laid out for him over his head, allowing her to gently remove the hair that had been trapped under his collar.

Tobias, Peter and Peter's wife, Elly, were sitting around the kitchen table when Severus and Hermione came down the stairs.

Elly went into a flap that startled Severus. "Goodness! Ye must be starvin'! Let me fix you a little something." She bustled around the kitchen, fetching a frying pan, eggs, cured meat of some kind and a loaf of home-made bread.

"Madam, you are most kind, but-"

"One omelette or two, m'dear?" the short, round woman inquired as if she hadn't heard him. If it weren't for her dark hair, he could've sworn she was Molly's long lost twin. His stomach gave a loud rumble as the smell of the melting tab of butter in the pan reached his nose. Elly laughed. "Two it be then. How 'bout you, lads?" she asked looking toward Tobias and Peter now. "Ready for a spot of luncheon?"

Both men gave a cheer, raising their cups of tea in mock salute. They grinned when she shot them a disapproving look. "Won't ye help me, dear? Cut that up in nice thick slices for the men," she asked Hermione, handing her a bread knife and well-worn cutting board. Soon the women were chatting amiably over the sizzle of the frying pan.

Severus slid into a seat across from the two men. He couldn't help staring at Tobias. The man looked slightly younger, but the difference wasn't as marked as Severus' own change. Severus poured himself a cup of tea.

"Ye look well, Outsider," Peter remarked. "Slept well?"

"Yes... thank you." Severus wasn't used to small talk, but it created a nice buffer. His grip on the cup tightened when the men shot each other knowing glances, but didn't say anything more, just looking at him with those faint smiles on their faces. It was clear that they wouldn't volunteer information – he had to ask.

Drawing a deep breath, he said, "Why... how... am I...?" His words didn't come. Instead he vaguely indicated his face, hoping they would understand the question he didn't know how to articulate.

"Ye still be yer forty-odd years, Outsider," Tobias' eyes twinkled, "ye just dun' look it anymore."

Severus hated when people twinkled at him. "But why did it not have the same effect on you?"

"The birds know the hurt in yer heart," Tobias said mildly, sipping at his tea.

"But-"

"Enough jabber, lads. Eat up." Elly placed a heaped plate of food in front of him. He fell on it like a starving man, mumbling thanks when Hermione placed a thick slice of bread, plastered with fresh butter on the side of his plate.

Cutlery clinked on crockery as they ate. Somehow more food kept showing up on his plate – Elly was merciless, clucking "So thin" each time she refilled it.

Finally Severus sat back, groaning, "Madam, desist! I cannot eat another bite." Elly looked as if he had slapped her. "Oh very well..." he sighed in an uncharacteristic show of graciousness, "but just one more small helping." Her face lit up again as she shovelled more fried food onto his plate.

Peter and Tobias gave him sympathetic looks as he battled through his meal, but some sense of relief that Elly had found a new victim was evident in their shoulders. Hermione chuckled and patted his knee under the table, nibbling delicately at her own slice of bread slathered in marmalade.

Not long after, Elly was doing the washing up and humming cheerily to herself. Severus felt rather uncomfortable, not knowing whether to sit back or bear forward in order to ease his aching gut. He settled for sitting up very straight.

"Tobias... Peter... we need to discuss some things with you," Hermione said. The relaxed atmosphere around the table quavered like a soap bubble, but, thankfully, didn't burst. Encouraged, Hermione ploughed ahead. "We all know how valuable the Caladrii are." She squeezed Severus' hand, shooting him a look that melted his insides. "We have been sent here to work with you on conserving them, for the good of all involved. But we need to know all there is to know about them. Are you willing to help us?"

Tobias and Peter muttered to each other for a few brief moments, too low for either Severus or Hermione to make out the actual words. Peter looked unconvinced, shaking his head and frowning, but Tobias seemed to be winning him over to the idea.

"Fine, fine," Peter muttered. "What do ye need to know?"

That familiar academic hunger sparked deep in Hermione's eyes. She was so excited at the prospect of gathering information that she forgot herself and summoned her writing implements from their room. She was rummaging through her old book bag before she stopped and looked into the surprised faces of the three Muggles in the room.

"I... er..."

"Dearie be! I wish I coul' do that! Woul' save me trips upstairs!" Elly chortled, clunking a fresh pot of tea down on the table. Hermione smiled bashfully.

Severus sat back, quietly digesting his large meal as Hermione fired questions, writing extensively. She had never believed in using Quick-Quotes Quills, preferring to make all the notes in her own loopy handwriting.

Light was fading by the time she looked over the document with a satisfied air, annotating a few more points next to existing sections. Apparently, the Caladrii were fairly gregarious, nesting in a group of trees at the far end of the valley next to a sheltering cliff overhang. They always returned there by nightfall, roosting in groups of two to four birds, that might be related or not. They tended to be monogamous, only producing one egg per year and pining to death when their mate died (next to this Hermione had scribbled 'perfect candidate specimens'). At an estimated lifespan of a hundred-odd years (provided that they didn't ride the fire or get killed by foxes when they were chicks), it was clear why medieval writers thought the bird immortal. There didn't seem to be any difference in the magic of old versus young birds, but the magic did seem to affect each person differently (as Severus could attest to).

"Okay," Hermione mumbled around the pen she was chewing, a bright blue smear of ink across her nose and the ring finger on her right hand similarly marked. "I think we're dealing with a K-selected species here, I propose we... what?"

She was met with blank looks all around.

"Now, missy... I be no man of learning. We be but common folk," Peter offered with an apologetic spreading of his hands.

"Er... sorry... I meant that the Caladrii breed slowly but live long. We need a long-term plan in order to help them." There was an expectant pause; they were obviously waiting for her to say more. "We need to get a couple of magizoologists in here to-"

"Absolutely not!" Peter growled, transforming again into the angry villager from yesterday. Severus tensed in anticipation. "Outsiders be not welcome in the valley!"

"Peter, be reasonable!" Tobias said. "We can't hide 'em forever. I be tired of fighting and losing anyway." He looked resigned. "What harm be there in accepting help when we be floundering? We be under obligation of a blood oath. We have duties."

"Our duty is to keep them safe and keep Outsiders out. Interfering bunch of-"

"Peter Joseph Hempley!" Elly cut him off. "These nice people only want to help and there you go with those bullheaded notions of yours again. We have duties, and if this be a means to fulfill them, I be all for it."

"Peter," Hermione beseeched, "I promise you we won't interfere with your village. I will select the people myself and they will only be here for one, maybe two, weeks out of every year. You needn't even see them if you don't want to."

"Oh lordie, no! Tha' won't do! They'll stay in our house, won't they, Peter?" Elly said pointedly. Peter grumbled but nodded his head in defeat, earning him a hearty clap on the back from Tobias. "When will they be arriving, dearie?"

Tarah Fae on

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