Seventeen

Many Thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Hermione watched McGonagall's anxious face disappear in a burst of green flames, and an unusual weight of failure descended on her. She was shocked at the feeling. She never failed. But she had, and now countless people would die. The witch looked up uneasily at the dark wizard sitting completely still beside her. Why did he give false platitudes of confidence to McGonagall as he did? He really was an enigma, and Hermione almost shook her head in bewilderment. Then again, she reasoned, he hadn't refused her request, but voiced his distaste to the rite in the strongest possible way.

Snape cleared his throat and adjusted the folds of his teaching robes as he looked down at her. 'Have you eaten, my lady?'

Hermione shook her head.

'Would you care to dine with me this evening?'

Hermione fought down a churlish impulse to refuse. It would be so simplistically easy to blame him for everything, but she knew it would do no good.

'Yes, my friend, that would be nice,' she said, trying to inject some warmth she didn't feel into the words.

They stood silently and exited McGonagall's office, Snape warding it behind them. As they moved soundlessly down corridor after darkened corridor, Hermione realized that she also had a part to play in the failure to initiate the rite. If she hadn't rushed in, desperate to solve the pattern in order to go home, if she had actually stopped to think what she was asking these men to do and thought more about how to approach the delicate situation, she may have met with success. But it mattered nothing now. For whatever reason, people would die because of what she was unable to achieve.

Snape stopped and pushed the door open, and Hermione followed him despondently into the grimy, little room, averting her eyes as he unwarded the door. Despite her heaviness, she couldn't help but be relieved when she entered his dark rooms, and the intense pressure lifted.

Snape dug in his pockets, found a box of matches and quickly lit a branch of candelabra on the bookcase, which cast a warm glow to the room. 'My lady, allow me to take your cloak and hat.'

Hermione nodded, undid her heavy cloak and handed it to him along with her hat. He disappeared into the other room while she unlaced her boots. There were some low embers in the fireplace, so she padded over and prodded them with a poker, throwing in some kindling to reignite the flame. She always found fiddling with fire eased her mind and sat down cross-legged to nurse it back. The witch gazed into the deep, orange flame, mesmerized by its movements, and felt him gently caress her with his presence. She felt eased.

'My lady, would you care for some wine?'

Hermione turned around and saw Snape standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hair tied back and shirt tucked into his black trousers. He's got very long legs, noted Hermione absently as she nodded. The brown-haired woman turned back to the fire, putting her mind into the flame again, wanting to feel his caress, but being reassured at the thought of him just being there.

'My lady?'

Hermione turned again to see Snape place two wineglasses on the low table and sit smoothly down. She got up and moved towards him.

'Thank you for lighting the fire.'

'It wasn't a problem.' Hermione sat down opposite; a glass of red wine was in front of her. 'Well, cheers, I suppose,' Hermione said, trying to drum up some enthusiasm. She lifted her glass in salute.

'Cheers,' replied Snape, copying the gesture, his black eyes fixed on her.

Hermione took a sip of wine, almost unaware of the taste, so great was the turmoil in her.

'I wonder how long I'll be here now,' she said out loud, articulating her greatest fear of being stuck in this icy castle infinitum. What if she never saw her boy again? Her lip started to tremble, so she bit down on it hard to stop it, preferring pain to emotion.

Snape frowned in puzzlement, putting down his wine. 'What do you mean?'

'I've failed. I am sure you have worked out that Harry refused to do the rite. I don't know what else I can do now. All I want is to go home and see my boy...but I doubt that will be possible.' Hermione chewed on her lip, concentrating on sealing up her emotions.

'I don't know about that.' Snape looked at her oddly.

'With the intensity of the attacks, I'm sure Professor McGonagall won't let me leave. I did it all wrong. I think you're right...once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor. I should have been more Slytherin. I'm sorry if I caused offence to you today by suggesting that type of rite with Harry. I guess my thinking was too Southern. I well and truly miscalculated.' Hermione had her elbows on the table and her chin gloomily in her hands.

'No, I don't mean that. I am not so sure the rite won't go ahead.' Snape took another sip, but did not take his black eyes off her.

Hermione jerked her head up in surprise. 'How? What do you mean?'

'What did you just say? 'Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor'... That is particularly applicable to your friend Mr Potter. With Ms Weasley being captured as she has, he might find a new impetus to overcome his hatred of me.'

'Do you think?' A tiniest grain of hope awoke within Hermione.

'Yes. I am sure he will visit you first thing tomorrow morning once he has spent a night in the depths of fear and despair. After that, perhaps I will not seem a bad alternative.' Snape looked like he was fighting down a smirk, but not quite succeeding. 'Although does he have any idea what is involved in the rite?'

'Ah... no.' Despondency ran through Hermione again. 'Just suggesting to voluntarily be in a room with you was enough. I am sure his reaction to the rite will match yours when I explain it.'

Snape looked at her evenly...a long finger tapping the side of his glass. 'It would make for a successful rite in that case.'

'What?' Hermione had no idea what Snape was saying.

'Do not forget I was brought up in the South, and in addition I am a Slytherin.'

'But I thought I'd offended you by suggesting the rite.'

'Forget my reaction. I did not control my emotions enough...it is nothing new.'

What had caused Snape to react how he did if it wasn't the rite with Harry? Hermione thought furiously. 'Is it because.... What did you call me? Your master?'

Snape flinched and looked away.

'I could hardly call myself that!' exclaimed Hermione indignantly. That put her in the same league as Voldemort and Dumbledore.

Snape lifted his eyes again to hers. 'Again, I reacted with bad grace. Had I allowed a moment's thought to take place...how could I have compared you and him to my previous masters? The very structure of master and servant does not exist in your world, my lady. I have been honoured beyond measure to encounter you and him in me and the potent power that exist between you both. It is only through sensing what occurred last night that I can even begin to try and understand what you are attempting to do now. I have always known there is a fundamental imbalance in this wizarding society that allows entities such as the Dark Lord to exist. But the power of the South I respect. There is no doubt Mr Potter needs to be strengthened. If it be your will, my lady, I will do the rite.' Snape lowered his head.

Hermione nodded quietly, and relief washed through her.

'And now I must prepare dinner. Would you care for a bath?'

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden topic change. 'Ah, yeah, sure,' she said unsurely...what a strange suggestion.

'You are staying in the Gryffindor Tower, are you not?'

Hermione nodded and thought about the pathetic shower in her room.

'It is time you discover bathing as Slytherins know it. It will also be recognizable to you from your time in the Black Mountains.'

'Ooh, a mountain style bath? Here?' The Black Mountain style baths were famous throughout the South.

Snape nodded with a smile and led her to a door between his bedroom and the kitchen. 'There are towels on the shelf. Please take your time.'

+++

Snape looked up when she moved to the kitchen doorway. 'Good?'

'Wonderful.' Hermione sighed happily.

'Let us go into the living room.'

Snape walked by with two plates, and Hermione closely followed him, feeling the ease in which her muscles moved. She hadn't realized how much tension she had from all her injuries until she was able to soak in the healing waters. The table was already laid complete with a bottle of wine and clean wineglasses.

'This looks amazing.' Her mouth watered as she looked down on the soft, orange salmon with a sprig of dill over it, creamy sweet potato and a fresh salad.

Snape sat down opposite. 'Please start, my lady.'

It tasted wonderful; she hadn't eaten anything as nice since... well... the dinner he had cooked her in the hut in the Forbidden Forest. Again Hermione was comfortable just eating. There wasn't any pressure to fill the silence, and she noticed Snape matched her enthusiasm...like he too was half starved. When the plates were empty, and Hermione's stomach full to bursting, Snape refilled her wineglass.

'Shall we sit closer to the fire?' he suggested.

The witch nodded, and Snape gathered up the plates, taking them into the kitchen while Hermione picked up the glasses, and moved to the fire where the rug was thicker. The wizard moved silently over to her, sitting down cross-legged next to her, and nodded thanks when she handed him his wine. Hermione sipped and swirled the red wine around her mouth, tasting its subtle notes.

'Have you thought what to say to Mr Potter when he comes knocking on your door tomorrow?' Snape asked, his dark eyes reflecting the dancing flames of the fire.

'I have no idea.' Hermione shook her head.

Snape drummed a long finger on his glass for a bit. 'He is a Gryffindor... hmm... This will require some thought, as they are often fixed about these matters. For some strange reason, it is tied up with their honour....' He rolled his eyes.

'He is also Muggle–raised, and his aunt and uncle were conservative, so it is quite possible he has acquired some prejudices,' added Hermione. 'I don't actually know what his opinions are.'

Snape swirled the wine in his wineglass, and Hermione watched the moving shades of red. 'I would suggest an indirect approach when Mr Potter visits.'

'You mean a Slytherin approach,' observed Hermione, smirking.

'Quite.' Snape's lips twitched in amusement.

'Any other suggestions, oh-Head-of-Slytherin?' asked Hermione sarcastically.

'Tell him as little as possible, but assure him he will be safe and that his actions will benefit the entire wizarding society...appeal to his Gryffindor valor. Oh, and throw in the fact that he will most definitely become the hero he was destined to be...that will cinch the deal.' Snape sniggered.

Hermione winced for Harry at Snape's razor sharp assessment of him and the realistic truth in his comments. 'So, I tell him nothing about what he will do with you?'

'Say nothing except that I will be under oath not to reveal what takes place. Use the strength of the magic to draw him in.'

'Are you sure this is the right approach?'

'I know young men very well...trust me...it is the only way.'

It wasn't Hermione's normal way of approaching a situation, and the ethics of not telling Harry unsettled her. Yet if she did tell Harry, she knew he could still refuse. And then when Ginny was murdered after she had been tortured, Harry would be sent into a living hell. No, Snape was right...she would let the magic do its work, and there were strands she could thread through it that would make it easier for Harry. Hermione nodded in agreement.

'And what are the specifications for this type of rite?'

'Harry must take in your bodily fluids...your water...it must be done to trigger the change. But there is a certain amount of flexibility to how that is achieved,' Hermione answered vaguely.

'So there is my saliva and my...' Snape waved his hand in the general direction of his lower body.

Hermione nodded.

'Saliva it will probably be then.' Snape sighed somewhat dramatically. 'More is the pity. To actually receive pleasure from Mr Potter after all these years... Well, that would be truly wondrous.'

Hermione laughed at the expression on his face. 'Yes, well, I suppose...oh, well. But you will still find pleasure. I have no doubt about that.'

Now that there was a chance of the rite actually taking place, her initiate mind started working. 'How familiar are you with this rite?'

'Not very...only the main principles.'

'It will be powerful and quite different to what happened last night, but you are strong enough for your role...I know that. I'll be generating power to guide you through it.' Hermione sipped her wine. 'It should be done in a kund to augment the power, but that will be difficult, I would imagine. Hmm... I need to think.'

'A kund? I do not know that word.'

'It's a word that is most ancient and most maligned. But for now, it means an earthen pot and, for what we are to do, an underground chamber...where the rite takes place. They are scattered about the South, but I don't know about here.'

'Really? I did not know,' admitted Snape freely, stretching out on his stomach and propping his head in his hands.

'Not many talk of it...even in the South.'

'An underground chamber did you say?' Snape stroked his chin slowly. 'There are at least two underground chambers I know of in the Forbidden Forest. I never could work out their purpose, but they are most ancient.'

'In the Forbidden Forest? That's interesting...it makes sense, actually, now that I know what the houses are about. Are they big enough to do a rite in?'

'Yes, they both are quite spacious.'

'That's wonderful. My other concern is Harry's scar. When he suppressed his water element, he burnt his connection with Voldemort.'

'How do you know that?' asked Snape curiously.

'He told me it stopped hurting when Dumbledore died, which is about the time the suppression took place. However, my concern is when the water element is realigned, there is a possibility a reconnection will occur. If that happens, Voldemort will sense the change, and that cannot happen.'

'I am able to brew a potion to block the connection. It will essentially be the same as the one I take...except mine has added ingredients to counter the poison. When will the rite take place?'

'Tomorrow night, I hope.'

'I have enough brewed. Harry will have to take it hourly all day tomorrow to ensure enough is in his system.'

Hermione stared at Snape's long, relaxed body for a moment.

'Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!' she swore loudly in English.

'What?'

'Your Dark Mark.'

'Ah.' The wizard looked away uneasily.

'How aware is Voldemort of your thoughts and actions? I sensed a connection, but it seemed odd.'

'What I told you last night was correct...he is slowly poisoning me.'

Fear flowed involuntarily over Hermione.

'I and mine tasted it last night.' She looked down at her fingernails and felt a flush of embarrassment start to crawl up her neck. 'It was why I reacted as I did.'

There was silence and Hermione looked up to find Snape gazing gently at her. He blinked and continued in his deep voice, 'His poison ebbs and flows through me. I am able to create through the potion a type of blockage for the majority of the time, but when his poison is flowing strongly, it is more difficult. It is not a situation I find agreeable. It is much like trying to dam an incoming tide.'

Hermione nodded, remembering the craggy outcrop of rocks.

'Voldemort is in no way allowed to even remotely sense what is to occur...otherwise our element of surprise will be lost.'

Snape swirled the remaining wine in his glass swiftly so that it skimmed the rim of the glass. 'I could increase the potency of the potion, but there is a limit to its effectiveness, as the toxicity levels can quickly become fatal.'

'Are you able to block enough for tomorrow?'

'I am unsure. The poison fluctuates wildly. At present the poison should be flowing strongly now as a sign of his displeasure, but strangely it is not. But it could start flowing at any time. The only possible way around this is to take the highest potency potion over several days to ensure it will be effective enough to withstand it when it comes.'

'But we don't have days,' groaned Hermione. 'What is in the potion?'

'Wormwood is the active ingredient.'

'Really, I never knew that...then again, I doubt that type of potion would be considered common knowledge.'

'Actually, I teach it to first years, but it took a long time for me to realize its coded meaning.'

The witch was surprised, and then it dawned. 'The venom of sea dragons...how shrewd.' A look of admiration passed over Snape's face, and Hermione knew she had impressed him...it felt good.

'Is there any other way? You have to be the one to do the rite...'

Snape shook his head. 'There is no other way apart from the potion. I have explored all other options.'

Hermione drained her glass and stretched her legs out in front of her to relax her muscles. Snape got up easily and picked up the bottle from the table...then stilled.

'What you did last night must have reduced the poison in my system significantly. It is why I feel well now.'

'Really?' Hermione craned her neck to look up at the wizard. 'It made a difference?'

Snape nodded, sitting back down and leaning across to fill her glass before filling his own. 'Yes, with what has been going on, I had not realized the poison is not flowing through me as it should be...I feel well...ironic really.'

'If I did that again and you increased the wormwood potion to maximum strength, would that be enough to block the connection?'

'Yes...but we cannot. You will be putting yourself at extreme risk.'

'There is no other way. If we don't absorb your poison, you will not be able to do the rite,' countered Hermione firmly.

'Yes, but if you die, how will we do the rite?' Snape quickly pointed out. 'I do not want you in any danger. What happened last night could just happen again.'

'My rune closed the circuit both times, and as long as I keep my tattoo completely away from yours...better yet, not touching any part of you...it would prevent it from occurring again,' said Hermione slowly, working through the options out loud.

'But what of drawing you down again? Keeping you in this reality? I do not entirely understand it, but I know there are huge risks.'

'Yes, but if I don't fall into you and I resist going to him, I will be able to do it.'

'Pardon?'

'If our tattoos do not touch and I open a channel to him, but not go through it, I will be safe.'

'A channel?'

'Yes, to send the poison along so he can absorb it. He did that last night.'

'Are you able to do that?'

'It will take strength, and it is not usual, but it is possible.' Hermione looked down at her forearm encased in her black sleeve. 'But what about my rune?'

'Bind it with cloth?'

'Yes, that will work...especially if it is the same material as our clothes...and I have to remember not to bring it anywhere near your Dark Mark.'

'No. I have seen you twice now. I doubt you will be able to remember.'

'Tie my arm somehow so I can't move it?'

'I do not know about that...' Snape looked unsure.

'Bind my arm to my side...that'll work.'

'No, wear a larger shirt, and do not put that arm through the sleeve hole. That way you cannot lift your arm even if you want to.'

'Yes. We will do it now...there is no time.'

'I need to go to my office and drink the potion before we begin.' Snape got up quickly and went through his bedroom door, returning with strips of black material, one of his shirts and a canister of oil. 'Grounding oil for you to use,' he explained.

Hermione nodded, taking them. 'I will go through the grounding rituals that need to be done. When you return, I will be ready.'

'What do I do?'

'Lay beside me and give me your Dark Mark.'

Snape paled, swallowed and nodded.

When Snape had left, his cloak swirling about his ankles, Hermione unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. Taking the strips of material, she thickly bandaged her rune. The witch went through the grounding rituals: rubbing the oil over her body, making symbols with ash from the fire, tugging Snape's large shirt over her head but not putting her rune arm through the sleeve, and sitting and reciting the ancient words to open the channel to him. The longing to be with him intensified until she was on edge. She must not let her wild bird free. She must not join him. She must not cast off.

There was a shift in her periphery senses, and her body was guided smoothly into a laying position; there was the texture of a cushion on her cheek...soft skin on her lips. Hermione was tipping towards him, but used her strength to regain her balance. Suck, suck, she must suck. She tasted the poison's foul bitterness and guided it into the channel and felt him absorb it readily. He was intentionally keeping his distance from her, purposely not calling her. She was thankful...she knew she would not have been able to resist him if he had. The poison flowed blackly through her into the channel, and Hermione was aware of nothing else but its hypnotic movements. Gradually, the flow slowed until it was no more than a trickle, and then that too eventually stopped, and he rapidly closed the channel behind her.

Like a switch, everything focussed sharply. She was back...back...not that she had been anywhere, but there was no haziness about her senses. It had worked. Hermione stopped licking, and his arm shifted slightly. She was on her side; her rune arm was pinned down by her weight, which was good thinking by Snape. The wizard was warmly pressed up behind her...his Dark Mark arm was thrown over her.

'Are you all right?' he asked, and his voice had an unusual huskiness to it. She felt him prop himself up on his elbow.

'Yes...but my arm has gone to sleep. How are you?' Hermione rolled onto her back and looked at Snape lying alongside her. His face looked relaxed and unguarded. It was quite unlike anything she had seen...all harshness was gone.

'So, this is what it is like to have no poison in my system at all. It has been many years since I have felt like this. There is a lightness I do not recognize.'

Hermione rolled her shoulders to get the blood moving through her arm. Snape's arm still lay warmly across her.

'It has worked...I am very pleased.' Hermione smiled. 'And not just because of the rite tomorrow.' She then witnessed the unthinkable: an easy smile from Snape...free from any undertones of malice.

'Thank you, my lady. Your presence has enriched my life more than I could think possible.'

'Well, I am going to tell you that you have no need to thank friends...it was my absolute pleasure.' Hermione stifled a yawn. 'I suppose I should go back to my rooms soon.' She knew she had better move now while she still had the energy. It was so relaxing lying here, warm, no magical pressure crushing her, a full belly and Snape stroking her hair.

'Stay...sleep here...it is comfortable. Return to your rooms tomorrow morning.' He continued stroking her hair slowly...it felt nice.

'But my rune arm. I can't sleep like this...it feels like a straightjacket.'

'Simple.' Snape sat up, took off his black shirt, and firmly bandaged his Dark Mark with it. 'All right?'

'Ah, yes.' Hermione looked admiringly for the first time at a shirtless Snape...he had the shoulders and chest that spoke of a childhood spent swimming.

Snape got up and moved away from the flickering light of the fire and returned with two pillows and the same heavy blanket from last night. Hermione sat up awkwardly and first tried to wriggle her arm up and out the sleeve, but found it had been tucked firmly into her pants. Then she tried to untuck the shirt and pull it over her head but found that somehow the top buttons had been done up, and she couldn't get her head through the neck hole. Meanwhile, Snape had put the pillows down and sat down close to her.

'Do you need any help?' Amusement was glinting in his eyes.

'No, thank you. I am quite all right.' Hermione's pride came to the fore...she hated asking people to do these sorts of things. But she found trying to undo the millions of buttons with one hand was nigh on impossible...it would take her all night. 'Your bloody tailor...did he need so many stupid buttons,' she muttered exasperatedly in English.

'Come...allow me.' Snape leaned in and started unbuttoning them. 'Did you know you always swear in English?'

'No, I hadn't. But I suppose it's my mother-tongue after all. Probably when I feel any strong emotions, I might want to switch...I don't know...I never really thought about it.'

'I keep forgetting English is your mother-tongue.'

'I never picked English wasn't your first language all those years you taught me,' Hermione pointed out, watching his dexterous fingers unbutton the shirt.'

'True enough,' admitted Snape freely.

Snape had unbuttoned half the buttons, and Hermione was starting to be able to move her arm.

'Wait.' And he quickly undid the rest of the button. 'That will make it easier.'

The shirt fell open, and Hermione put her rune arm through the sleeve. Snape lightly traced a finger slowly down the red scarring on her chest and under her left breast. It made Hermione's breath catch in her throat.

'It has healed well, and they were rather neat stitches if I do say so myself,' Snape said quietly.

'Yes, I have no pain at all from it, and the bath this evening helped my muscles around my back tremendously,' rambled Hermione distractedly.

'Soaking in water is good for that,' replied Snape dreamily. He blinked and abruptly started buttoning her shirt back up, even though they both knew Hermione was capable of doing it herself.

'Lie down, my lady...sleep,' he said simply, bringing the blanket over them.

Hermione lay down and turned her head to watch the low flames of the fire. Snape lay next to her, put his arm over her and pulled her closer.

'When Mr Potter is at full strength, my lady, then what?' he asked quietly.

'Tomorrow, a pattern will be set, which allows me to guide it. This I am more confident about. I do hope you are right and Harry will come to me tomorrow...'

'Shh, he will come...I am sure. The rite will be done, and the pattern will be set. But for now, my lady, sleep,' he whispered in her ear.

So she did.