Chapter Fourteen - The Palpable Obscure

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JKR and/or Daniel Knauf. I do not profit from writing this story.

Author's Notes: I send my many thanks to melusin for going over this chapter multiple times.

Sleep.

That was the first word he thought as Snape slowly awoke the next morning.

He'd slept. He'd slept long. And deep. No dreams.

He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol last night, either. Severus couldn't remember the last time he had awoken so clear-minded.

A deep inhalation of groggy breath interrupted his musings. There was a half-dressed witch draped across his chest.

His eyebrows instantly furrowed together. He'd never woken up in the morning next to a witch he hadn't had sex with before. Maybe that was the reason he failed to recoil in disgust from her.

Hermione sleepily shifted against him. The hand around his neck softly tugged on his sleep-disheveled hair. She wound a strand between her fingers. Hermione's breathing evened out, her weight growing heavy against him as her fingers ceased in their movement. When Severus finally released a tense breath, it dawned on him that his body had stiffened as she roused. He didn't want to interrupt Hermione's sleep, and it unnerved him.

This young witch continued to surprise him at every turn.

First, her continuous and irritatingly persistent presence at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Then, her incessant fascination with him: in her every look, in the tone of her voice, in her submission to his attentions.

In truth, in the very beginning, he had merely been attracted to her.

Merely. She was, after all, a student, Gryffindor, and practically family with th Boy Who Lived Fucking Potter. All of these circumstances were the very reasons why he should not have sought her out.

But the fact that Black wanted her, he was loath to admit, stroked Snape's ego even more. Objectively, Severus knew that many a witch would say that Black was more attractive than he. Such a thing as physical appearance had never been important to Severus, but he wasn't ignorant to comprehend what he looked like. However, his appearance wasn't an issue because it never seemed to matter with the opposite sex. Severus was never left wanting in the department of lustful witches. Something about his... indifference and darkness always appealed to bored and daring females.

He imagined the same must be true with the eighteen-year-old body pressing its scantily covered breasts against his ribs. He and Black were both twenty years her senior, and yet she desperately wanted him.

Another reason he had gradually eased into this distraction.

Snape raised his arm, lightly placing his hand on her back. His warm fingers closed over the protruding bone of her shoulder blade.

She hummed sleepily, nudging her face against his neck.

Blood rushed to his groin, intensifying his morning erection.

His eyebrow rose in curious amusement. Something else he wasn't accustomed to in the morning.

Eyeing the growing bulge in his trousers, Snape's thoughts went over everything that had transpired the previous night.

Snape exhaled deeply. Last night was... an experience. Even thinking about it now seemed peculiar as the morning sun penetrated through his dirty window. His eyes glazed over in thought, transfixed on the hundreds of tiny dust particles floating through the bright rays streaking about his room.

Snape had to admit that he had given Hermione far less credit than she deserved. Especially last night. Expecting her to be childish and frightened at the exposure to his double life, she had tolerated it quite audaciously. She had even put on a very convincing show for Lucius.

Maybe there was more to this distraction than he'd originally anticipated.

She had shown far too much emotion for him than he was comfortable with, but he was surprised at how quickly he had welcomed it.

All ulterior motives and selfish inclinations aside, Severus wanted to keep her.

His hand clenched against her back at the thought.

*** *** ***

Hermione's ears pricked at the squeak of aged pipes. Not until the room went soundless did she realize that the shower had just been turned off.

She was so comfortable she didn't want to open her eyes. She had slept fairly soundly, which was surprising, given the apprehension she had felt at sharing a bed with Severus.

She smiled, stretching her arms high above her head, humming as her back arched off the bed.

Her hum was answered by a ragged intake of air.

Hermione's heart dropped, and the sort of irrational fear usually felt by a child waking up from a bad dream ran through her.

Far too apprehensive to glance in the direction of the labored breaths traveling across from the bed, Hermione fearfully realized that there was still noise coming from behind the bathroom door.

She lifted herself to sit up, forcing her sleep-hazed vision against the blinding morning sun. There was a third person in this house.

Her blood ran cold.

A bookcase was pushed open, revealing a darkened doorway. A filthy, emaciated man was standing in the crack, looking at her with sunken eyes.

Mouth falling open, he stepped completely into the room. His eyes washed over Hermione.

Too scared to run, Hermione barely had time to cover herself with the bedclothes. The man saw her fright and nearly ran to the side of the bed. Her mouth opened, releasing a terrified scream.

"SEVERUS!" she screeched.

The bathroom door instantly banged open. In the middle of his morning routine, Severus pounded into the room with an intimidating air, his bathrobe hanging open. The second Snape took in Hermione cowering against the headboard, he threateningly tilted his head toward Wormtail. The cowardly rodent should know better. Snape's lips raised in an incensed sneer, revealing clenched teeth.

"This one stayed," Wormtail rasped fearfully. "I was merely going to... remove her for you."

"Get. Out." Severus' fists clenched as he straightened his back.

Wormtail's mad eyes whipped back towards Hermione. At a complete loss of his senses, Wormtail made no attempt to desist in his oddly casual tone of voice. "She is quite pretty. Have you brought her here before? She looks familiar..." At the sight of a wet and partially naked Snape lunging for his wand, Wormtail finally darted back behind his shelf.

Raising his arm, Snape sent a series of wards against the closed bookcase. He breathed deeply through his nostrils in an attempt to control his mounting anger and irritation.

His eyes fleetingly caught Hermione's as she turned towards the seamless bookcase once more. Her continued shocked expression finally caused him to act.

"Are you all right?" he asked, moving to sit beside her on the bed. When Hermione failed to turn her face away from the wall, Snape slowly reached toward her, grasping her behind the head. "Hermione?" he called sternly.

She finally snapped toward him, her expression cleared at the realization of him being so near.

"That was Wormtail," she declared, voice full of shock.

"Did you watch me? Could you remember the wards I placed upon the door?" Snape asked seriously. They were the very same wards that had lifted upon his entrance through the front door the previous night. In the excitement that followed, in the revelations of Hermione's determination, he had let something as important as the wards on his house slip his mind. And ... still ... he had slept so deeply.

"Why is he here?" Hermione asked with a slight accusation in her voice.

"Hermione! Did you see the wards I have place upon the door? Can you repeat them?"

Her eyebrows pinched in puzzlement. "Yes."

"Good. Hopefully, I will never let something so important slip my mind again, but I can at least feel content to share this responsibility with you as well."

Her next breath paused in her throat. Coming from such a private man as Severus Snape, Hermione read far more into that statement than he. Pushing herself away from her cowered crouch against the headboard, Hermione raised herself on her knees. Leaning towards him, she extended her arms around his neck, completely oblivious to his nakedness.

"Of course," she replied sincerely. "Anything important that you ask of me, I will do."

Snape immediately closed his arms around her, returning the embrace. He welcomed her affection, but his face darkened at her words.

*** *** ***

A few hours after the sunrise Severus observed through his Muggle window found Hermione back at Hogwarts.

So much has been said and done in the past twenty hours. Such incredible and depressing darkness. Her heart sagged at her complete disappointment regarding the hearts of humans and their selfishness. Is this what war makes of men?

But it wasn't all for naught. She couldn't help but be slightly pleased at the sudden turn her relationship with Severus had taken. At least now, she could safely say there was some form of intimate emotion behind the sexual tension that constantly fueled their every interaction.

She wanted him so desperately, but she didn't know how to go about it. She didn't understand it, and she didn't care to. Her every movement and thought, from the second she slyly slipped back up to her rooms, was to hope for the chance to even be able to glimpse him again.

Purposefully treading through Hogwarts halls, Hermione forced herself to shake most of last night's events ... except one.

Sirius.

What was that?

Depending on whether or not he was anywhere to be found in the castle would explain the seriousness of his situation last night. If no one knew of his whereabouts, then he was probably still passed out somewhere in Hogsmeade. Maybe he was far more ill than she'd assumed.

*** *** ***

When her knock on the Defense Against the Darks Arts door remained unanswered, Hermione turned the doorknob, relieved at finding it unlocked. Striding purposefully to Sirius' office, Hermione had no doubt that he was present and well enough to receive visitors.

Sirius paced back and forth in his office. His shadowed figured passed across the small pulse of light spilling from the space below his office door. He seemed to be talking to himself. One moment his voice was a whispered cry, the next a bark of anger. The floor vibrated against the scraping of chairs and falling objects.

Maybe I should come back later.

A pot of tea crashed against the door.

"Sirius!" Hermione instantly shouted in reaction.

All movement inside paused. Making up her mind, Hermione pounded her fist upon the door. She quickly grew irritated when it was not immediately answered.

"Sirius, open this door this instant!"

Sirius yanked open the door. Taking notice of the irritation in Hermione's voice, he refused to meet her eyes and determined to continue pouting at the floor. This, of course, wasn't noticed by Hermione. Suddenly thrust into his presence, feeling his labored breath brush against her face, all of the horribly uncomfortable thoughts of his entertainment the night before flashed through her mind.

She didn't want to remember that she had seen this man naked, pounding his swollen erection into a worn prostitute. The harder she forced the images away, the clearer they became. She colored and purposefully looked beyond him.

Her mouth fell open.

"What are you doing?" she asked in exasperation. Hermione carefully edged around him, stepping into the room around broken china and overturned chairs. She gasped at the sight of scattered books and torn pages.

"Cleaning."

"Were you planning on destroying your office first!"

Sirius sighed and lowered himself to sit on the floor. "I am... was angry," he spat out through clenched teeth.

"Why?" Hermione asked bluntly. She could see no logical reason for this mess. Smoothly lifting a chair, she placed it directly in front of him and made it very clear she wasn't going to move unless he started talking.

"Dumbledore," Sirius said uncomfortably.

Hermione tried very hard not to appear somewhat aware of his meaning. "What about Dumbledore? Did he say something to anger you?"

Sirius clenched his jaw, turning his head away.

Hermione leaned further back into her chair in response.

"He doesn't understand... anything," Sirius spat. "I'm no longer a criminal on the run. I don't see why I should continue playing the role of prisoner just because of his paranoid suspicions. Bumbling old foo..."

"Sirius," Hermione said warningly.

He grunted in frustration. "I should be allowed to come and go as I please. I'm a fully grown man!"

"Who throws tantrums like that of a five-year-old," Hermione countered, crossing her arms.

When Sirius failed to respond, Hermione couldn't help but shake her head in pity. She could imagine the type of conversation Professor Dumbledore would have had with him. No doubt the Headmaster was contacted the moment it became apparent that there was a Hogwarts professor passed out on the bedroom floor of a brothel.

"Stop sulking, and get off the floor," Hermione said sternly.

He eyed her defiantly. Hermione tilted her head to the side, her expression daring him to disobey her.

"You've been spending far too much time with Minerva," he muttered as he slowly rose.

She was actually quite pleased to be compared to her mentor.

"You can't honestly believe that Dumbledore would just make demands of you for absolutely no reason?"

Back towards her, Sirius paused in his movement, but then continued the swish of his wand about the room, repairing everything he had destroyed in his rage.

"He is looking out for your best interests, Sirius," Hermione urged delicately.

"Of course," Sirius scoffed, "everything Dumbledore ever says or does is completely for the good of those involved and never based on private, ulterior motives."

Hermione frowned to herself. She knew that something of the bitterness in his comments was probably justified. She had found herself feeling the same.

"Regardless, I'm sure Dumbledore knows best."

Sirius whirled around. Balancing himself by gripping the back of a chair, Hermione curiously wondered at his expression. Finally, in an emotionless tone, he said, "Did he know better last time?"

"Last time?"

Sirius' fingers clenched, nails digging into the finish of the wooden chair.

"If he hadn't forced me to stay locked up in my filthy, childhood home... If he hadn't ordered me to remain useless I might not have..."

My gods. "Are you blaming your death on the Headmaster!" As the words left her mouth, Hermione knew this to be true, and it explained so much. Sirius no longer trusted the Headmaster. He had even gone so far to convince himself that his blood was on Dumbledore's hands, and no doubt, the Headmaster knew this. This would explain why he felt the need to require more than one person to keep an eye on the irrational man before her.

Regaining her senses, Hermione was uneasily aware of Sirius' determined march across the room.

He stopped inches before her. She leaned back into her seat in an effort to separate the uncomfortable closeness of their bodies. Sirius eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as his face went red.

He lunged at Hermione, grasping her by the arms, yanking her out of the chair.

"My... what?" he roared.

"Sirius," Hermione said fearfully. She pushed against his chest.

"Do I look dead to you?" he asked slowly, pausing after each word.

Hermione swallowed. She cried out when his hands closed even harder around her arms. Her words faltered, terrified when his eyes glossed over the more fearful she became.

She needed a different course of action.

Hermione raised her chin. "Sirius, you will remove your hands this instant!"

The rage pulled from his expression, replaced by shock at his firm grip on her arms.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, backing away from her.

Hermione made a move towards the door.

"Hermione!" he called after her.

Hermione tensed. She slowly turned around, afraid to make a sudden movement as if she were cornered by a mad dog. It was painful to realize that with this man, the analogy was true.

"I don't know..." His words caught in his throat. He looked wildly around the room, finally comprehending the destruction he had caused to the inanimate objects and the near destruction of the woman standing before him. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

Hermione nodded numbly, turning away to leave.

"And I am not dead," he called after her before the door closed. The finality in his voice told Hermione that he valued her believing this much more than accepting his apology.

*** *** ***

Hermione pounded on Severus' office door. She waited, in hesitant patience, for his thunderous voice to allow her entrance. But there was no sound or movement from inside.

Hermione knocked loudly again.

"Ah, Miss Granger."

Still shaken up from Sirius' near attack, Hermione started at the sudden appearance of Professor Dumbledore. She couldn't help the guilt-ridden, sharp inhale as she spun around.

"Y-yes, Headmaster."

"I believe, in his rush to leave the castle, Professor Snape has allowed your detention to slip his mind. Otherwise, you would have been informed."

"He's left?"

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side, eyeing her curiously. "I have known you to be one enthusiastically thrilled with everything related to education and schoolwork. However, the idea of a student disappointed at a cancelled detention is a bit alarming."

Hermione caught herself, flashing him a knowing smile.

"Not as alarming as Professor Snape denying the chance to instill discipline in a student. Only something very serious would prevent him from overseeing his own detentions."

Hermione wasn't just saying this to draw attention away from herself. In the ordinary interaction between a student and professor, she knew that Dumbledore spoke of Severus' nature fairly accurately. He would have made the effort to reschedule. But given that their relationship was more intimate, and that most likely this evening wouldn't have consisted of typical disciplinary chores, the fact that he'd still failed to send her notice was true cause for alarm. He had left the castle. Her stomach clenched agonizingly at the thought.

Unaware of her internal musings, Dumbledore laughed in amusement. "Quite right, Miss Granger. But since you have the evening free, might I offer you a cup of tea... in my office?"

His serene smile was not lost on her. That was Dumbledore lingo for "time to discuss your assignment."

Good. She had questions about Sirius for him as well.

"Of course, Headmaster."

*** *** ***

Hermione used the cover of slowly sipping her tea to stall for time to think. Should she come out and ask Dumbledore questions or wait for him to lead the discussion? Somehow, whenever the Headmaster led the topic of conversation, he always seemed very talented at asking ... if not demanding ... tasks from her.

She had far too many burning questions to sit quietly.

"Headmaster, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, my dear." Dumbledore raised his tea to his lips, giving her his full attention.

"Does Sirius' return from the veil have something to do with the pocket watch he constantly carries?"

Dumbledore nearly dropped his teacup. Spluttering, he pounded his chest to clear his windpipe. When Hermione rose out of her seat in alarm, he waved her away with his good arm.

"It appears, Miss Granger," he gasped between intakes of air, "that you have gained a far greater degree of trust from Sirius than I had anticipated."

Hermione guiltily diverted her eyes. "Er... no, sir. I just... This is based on observation only."

"So you've seen it?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Yes."

Dumbledore paused as he decided his words. Characteristically, he fingered his bearded chin. "There is no coming back from the dead, surely you understand that? But some people have such a burning will to refuse their fate that they can leave an imprint of themselves on this earth..."

"Which would create their ghost," she carelessly interrupted. "I don't see how..."

"I hadn't finished."

Hermione's face reddened. "I apologize."

Dumbledore nodded his head in forgiveness before he continued. "But Sirius' death isn't ... wasn't a typical one. First of all, it was so abrupt, falling through the archway in the manner that he did. Secondly, once he was on the other side, he was not completely aware that he was, in fact, dead. Oh, I'm sure it had crossed his mind, but he wanted answers. He refused his fate until he was given... until he was visited."

Dumbledore paused. He purposefully allowed Hermione to ask whatever question he knew was developing in that incredible mind of hers.

"He was given his timepiece on the other side?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"Of that, I am not positive."

Hermione knew that Dumbledore either hadn't asked Sirius or had asked and had been refused an honest answer.

"What happens to him when he doesn't wind it?"

Dumbledore suspiciously narrowed his eyes at her. She seemed to know an awful lot of information without speaking personally to Sirius on the subject.

"That watch is the key to his ability to live and breathe in the land of the living. But it was created on the other side and will constantly connect him ... bind him ... to the afterlife. Which is why it needs to be carefully maintained."

Hermione swallowed in discomfort. Sirius' life, now, seemed almost like... an abomination.

"Now I can see why you would want to keep Sirius out of Voldemort's grasp. I would imagine he would be very curious to have a 'Plan B' for returning from the dead."

Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. It is essential for Sirius to remain away from Voldemort's influence."

"You didn't exactly answer my question, Headmaster," Hermione probed delicately, folding her hands in her lap.

"What question was that, my dear?"

"What happens to Professor Black if he fails to wind his pocket watch?"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "His soul will be sent back beyond the veil, and his body will die."

Hermione laughed nervously. "You say that as if his soul and body were no longer connected." Her face cleared when the old man leaned across his desk.

"If they were connected, Miss Granger, then he wouldn't be so dependant on the pocket watch, now, would he?"

Oh, my God...

Hermione cleared her throat, thinking of another question that might be too imprudent to ask. "Professor... if I may be so bold..."

"As much as we have shared now, Miss Granger, I fail to see what harm any further questions could do."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but Sirius doesn't trust you at all, does he?"

Dumbledore sadly shook his head. "I am not too ignorant or unfeeling to see that Sirius has suffered unjustly for a long time. He is looking for somewhere to place blame, and I don't fault him for it."

"But he blames you."

Dumbledore fidgeted slightly. "Sirius views his own pain quite dramatically, so he sees himself very alone. I fear that this makes him susceptible to influences of charismatic powers. He needs a friend, and given that it was Harry for whom he fled to save back at the Department of Mysteries, I am not surprised he hasn't turned to him for counsel."

Hermione's heart raced in realization. "So, you've left this to me?"

"I find your heart so passionate and naturally candid in the expression of your love and devotion to those you have claimed as friends. So steadfast, regardless of any obstacles placed in your way. Sirius needs someone to trust, even love, and I hoped to save him with you."

Hermione's lips thinned at the Headmaster's confession. How dare he assume she would want to give such a man her love? And yet, she remained silent. The Headmaster was old, and very set in his ways. Hermione knew her objections would fall on deaf ears.

"So tell me, Hermione. How are things... developing... with Sirius?"

Hermione clenched her jaw.

"My friendship with Professor Black, sir, is as strong as ever. I will continue to attempt to gain his confidences as well as ensure his safety from negative influences and his timepiece from dubious individuals who may wish to steal it."

"Has someone tried to steal it?" he asked, shocked at the idea.

Hermione swallowed. She assumed Severus told the Headmaster everything.

"No, sir. But I wouldn't be surprised," Hermione answered immediately. Her own words echoed in her ear. Her glands salivated as her stomach turned. She fought the urge to throw up. She had just lied to the Headmaster, and it had almost felt natural, too. Why would she do that?

Severus.

She didn't like it.

Dumbledore released a relieved sigh. "I must admit, I am not sorry that you know all that you do. At least now you are aware of how important the effect of your encouragement is on Sirius and will act accordingly."

Her face a mask, Hermione merely nodded in agreement.

Author's Notes: It has been a bit longer than I would have liked since my last update. This chapter wasn't as long as I normally enjoy writing, but I felt like it needed to be wrapped up here. So as a peace offering, the next chapter is completely written, over 10,000 words and ready for my beta to work her magic.

-Melusin was wonderful enough to beta this chapter before she went on holiday for the week.

-Chapter title taken from John Milton's Paradise Lost, Book ii. Line 406.

-Next up: Hermione's discussion with Dumbledore leads her to demands answers from Severus. But is she truly ready to hear what he has to say? A routine visit to an underground werewolf pack forces Remus to confront the demons of his past.