Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

"Very good, Miss ... er, Hermione."

"How did you find out? When did you find out? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I had suspected him for some time, and these suspicions crystallized just before the final battle; it was purely by accident – I overheard Voldemort talking to him on the Floo network. I sent an owl to Albus, but I had no chance to tell anyone else." He quirked an eyebrow upward. "From your reaction, I assume Albus either never got my message, or never passed it on to anyone else."

"I'd bet he never got it. He would've told someone, I think."

"It's hard to say what the old man would've done. I think Albus took a childish delight in being unpredictable." He stretched, making the vertebrae in his neck and back pop with a series of sharp cracks.

"Bill Weasley does that too, you know."

"Fascinating," he said dryly. Then, "I had no proof, of course. Perhaps that's why Albus said nothing. It would not be easy to denounce the Minister of Magic, even for him. After my trial, Fudge came to see me at Azkaban. He said that with Dumbledore vanished and Voldemort dealt with, with the Death Eaters gone, he would rule wizarding Britain without interference. He is a dangerous man, Hermione. Clever and ambitious. He should've been sorted into Slytherin!"

"And here I always thought he was a fool," she marveled. "He's a consummate actor."

"Yes, and you can trust nothing he says or does, even if appears to benefit him. He's always playing games within games. Voldemort wanted to purge the wizarding world of all except pure-bloods. Fudge seeks to build a monarchy with himself as king."

"Back up a moment," she said. "Did you just imply that Fudge did something to Professor Dumbledore?"

"That is the impression I received from what he said. He was altogether too gleeful about Albus' absence."

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm trying to put together a mental picture of that last big fight. You and Voldemort were sort of the focus of everyone's attention. Harry was with you. Was Fudge there at all?"

"Yes, I saw him there after it was all over." Severus cast his mind back on his freshly processed memories. The battle had taken place in a nondescript field near Glastonbury – the property of an old Muggle couple who actually lived in London , and had no idea of the carnage wrought upon their land. Their battle plan was simple: decapitate the snake – kill Voldemort, and the Death Eaters would flee. It had worked! Careful misinformation by himself and other spies had convinced Voldemort that Roger Bacon's original Philosopher's Stone was there, heavily guarded. The bait had been taken; Voldemort had summoned his forces and set off to retrieve it. "I don't believe you need to picture the entire battle. Just Albus and those surrounding him. I'm afraid I won't be of much assistance to you there though; the last I saw of him, he was up on that little rise. That was right before..." Before Lucius Malfoy had caught Remus Lupin with an Incendius curse. The werewolf had howled his agony – a horrid soul-wrenching sound that seemed to freeze all time for an instant – before turning his wand on himself. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at the memory.

"Before Remus suicided." Hermione bit her lip and her eyes brightened with unshed tears. "I heard later. War is such a hellish waste of good people! I was over in the southeast corner for most of the fight. The Death Eaters were trying to Apparate in behind us, so we kept pretty busy reinforcing the wards there. Alastor Moody has the fastest wand I've ever seen – bar none. He taught me a couple of new spells too, mostly by bellowing."

"I think that you – or perhaps we – should discuss this with your compatriots Messrs. Weasley and Potter."

"Agreed. We need more data to figure out what happened to Albus." She sighed. "How far did you get with those notes?"

He jerked his head toward the neat stacks of parchment on the table. "I spent some time sorting them into categories: potion notes and recipe. Spell notes and history. Notes containing references to those who were Soulstruck, including a rather cryptic list. And miscellany – things which didn't fit into any of the other categories."

She stood up and walked around to his side of the table. "McGaven has one of the most warped senses of humor I've ever run across." She picked up the list. "This – Harry figured out what it was."

"I remember the discussion." He twisted around in his chair to look at her. Her nearness was unsettling. "But I don't remember anything of how you actually broke the spell. How did you break the Soulstriking, Hermione?"

She flushed on hearing him use her name. "Alastor got McGaven to tell him the counterspell. I cast it."

"Amor Vincit Omnia? Or is there another one?"

"That's the one I used." She turned away from him slightly, almost squirming in embarrassment.

"But..." He stopped, a little flustered. Surely she doesn't... love... me. "... for that to work, you must... feel something." When she didn't answer, he put a hand on her arm. She trembled at his touch. "Something besides fear and revulsion," he amended.

"Yes." She steadfastly refused to look at him, afraid of what would happen if their eyes met.

"So... what you said this morning was a convenient fiction for the moment?"

She wrenched herself away from him, attempting to summon up a glare and failing miserably. "No – it was... is... the truth. I love you."

The desperation in her voice set off alarm bells in his mind and chilled him more effectively than an ice shower. "Miss Granger, what spell or potion did you use to bring yourself to such a state?"

She mumbled something he didn't hear, and he caught her chin and turned her to face him. "Repeat that, please."

"I used an Amorata potion... Severus... it was the only way."

She ran a hand along the side of his face. "I know I'm just reacting

to the potion, but it feels real to me right now. It'll wear off in about

three days. I'll... I'll stay in my room till then. I won't bother you

again!"

Amorata? I may have underestimated her – there are few wizards or witches who can successfully brew that hellish concoction. He captured her hand and cleared his throat. "Why that particular potion?"

She shifted uneasily trying to twist her wrist away from him. "Because it was the best one I could find – I didn't want to risk using a lust potion. I needed to... love you, as you said."

"So you drugged yourself, risking that brilliant mind of yours, without thinking of the consequences. You realize that if you had erred even slightly in the brewing, you might have wound up insane or worse?" He let her go. "I... appreciate your efforts on my behalf."

"I used Marston's translation of Machiavelli's book," she said, leaning against the table next to him. "It was that or the Aligheri translation, and Marston had more extensive notes."

"Though Marston does have a marked tendency to gloss over consequences," Severus returned. "A serious failing in any book on potions."

"I'd have to agree with that. I thought that at worst it wouldn't work. I tried a translation spell on the Machiavelli first – but it didn't work very well. It translated the words, without any regard to the meaning."

"Which is why Marston, Aligheri, and their ilk make a living translating spellbooks and potion books. Marston is something of a polyglot; he knows some thirteen languages." He took a long breath. "That aside, I owe you an apology for my... actions earlier this morning. I've no idea what came over me. I can only put it down to a lapse in self-control caused by breaking of the Soulstriking."

It was her turn to take a deep breath. "Apology accepted, though I owe you one also since I started it. I plead influence of Amorata." I might just be able to get away without telling him I drugged him as well. I think a distraction is in order. She nodded toward the vials on the table. "I, um, have plans to deal with any possible consequences."

He flushed slightly and nodded, then changed the subject to something more comfortable. "Then we should relegate the subject to the past." A pause. "Would you be able to return to Hogwarts tomorrow to brew Heliax?"

"Certainly – I take it you think I should take the job?"

"Yes – it will be much less dangerous if I slip out of my Soulstruck character there than here."

"I'll owl Minerva tonight and let her know, and also tell her we're coming by to do some more brewing." She grinned. "I got quite a grilling from Poppy Pomfrey about your absence today."

He groaned. "She's still fixated? I wish she would find a husband! She's worse than Sybil Trelawney ever was. I'll definitely need Heliax if I'm to be anywhere in her vicinity."

It took a moment for Hermione to recognize the source of the flash of anger that his words inspired. Not anger. Jealousy. She shook her head to clear it. "I may need some myself if this damned Amorata doesn't wear off. Is there an antidote for it? The Amorata, I mean."

"Of sorts, but you'd find it a case of the cure being worse than the disease, so to speak."

"Oh?"

If it hadn't been for his actions that morning, he would've smirked. Instead he put on his driest impartial academic tone. "The antidote is to have sexual relations with a person of the appropriate gender who meets two criteria – first, that person must love you; second, they must consume an Amorata potion made without the drop of blood."

She blushed scarlet. "I'm sorry I asked! You're right – the cure is worse than the disease. Machiavelli is almost as twisted as McGaven."

"Machiavelli developed the basic potion. The interactions and some of the more unpleasant side effects were added by one of his contemporaries – Lucrezia Borgia. The Borgias were quite efficient when it came to arranging the lives of others to suit their purposes."

"Lucrezia Borgia? That's a name known even to Muggles – she's supposed to have been a murderess who poisoned a lot of people."

"She was also a talented witch with a vast knowledge of herbology and potions. She chose to turn her talents to the fine art of poison-making. Many of her notes are still used today by Potion Masters doing research in related fields."

"And she developed the interactions and side effects of the Amorata potion?" Hermione got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What sorts of side effects?"

"Remember what this potion was developed for: to insure that arranged marriages would be consummated, and would last. If the parties involved tried to resist, they would slowly sicken. Eventually their resistance would shatter and they would consummate the marriage, bringing immediate relief. Repeat that experience a few times, Miss Granger, and I'm sure you can predict the result."

"They would connect the relief with the consummation at a very primal level, no matter what their intellect told them." She shuddered. "Nothing breeds attraction like co-dependency. I assume this side effect is permanent?"

"Correct. However, that particular effect only applies if each person has consumed an Amorata made with the other person's blood. If only one person has drunk a 'keyed' Amorata, they experience love and lust, but it wears off."

Not one of the fifty-thousand oaths Hermione knew was adequate to express her dismay at Snape's words. She returned to her side of the table and sank into her chair. This is not what I needed to hear. "I see. And no one's managed to undo Borgia's modifications?"

"No one has ever tried, as far as I know. The potion is rarely used these days." He picked up the stack of pages that he'd labeled 'miscellany'. "McGaven is far too fond of cryptic statements for my taste. This list – what did you call them?"

"Harry called them invisible idiots," she replied automatically, her mind still mulling over the implications of the potion.

"Yes – quite fitting. That list, and this... cryptic verse..." He stabbed at the parchment with a long forefinger.

"We thought that might be another way to break the spell – but I didn't want to wait until next November for a harvest moon. I'm not sure what the other verses – the ones that aren't in English – are for. They don't appear to be incantations."

"I'd agree with that assessment." He picked up another piece of paper. "This one – what do you make of it?"

She forced herself to focus on the parchment he showed her. There was a single line of writing on it.

INIITP MONNEA PTVKNG OEI TE RSS H T I A B N L T E

"Another bloody puzzle! McGaven's a sadistic bastard!" She laughed a little nervously. "I said that a few weeks ago also. I guess he didn't want to make things easy for us... or anyone."

"I expect we will have to solve the poem puzzle as well as this one, and perhaps others as well."

Hermione drummed her fingers on the table in thought. "McGaven has a penchant for Muggle literature." She explained the lock on the cabinet in his lab. "So, I think it possible that these aren't spells or incantations, but something more mundane."

"Think like a Muggle, in other words." He sounded horrified and thoughtful at the same time. "Perhaps you and Mr. Potter would be better qualified to tackle this."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But different points of view are often helpful in solving puzzles. We have to work together." She rose. "And I need to send that owl off to Minerva. Care to come along?" She wasn't completely serious, yet part of her wanted his company. Wanted his presence at her side... wanted him to kiss her again... she clamped down on that train of thought.

"Where are you going to find an owl at this hour?"

"Hogsmeade, of course. I'll Apparate there."

"As I recall, it was more usual for me to accompany you on such mundane missions. Therefore I should continue to do so." He pushed back his chair and rose, picking up his coat from the couch.

"True enough." She moved to stand next to him, biting her lip to maintain her composure. "Give me your hand so I can Apparate us."

For his part, her proximity was unsettling him again. He could feel his pulse quicken. But she was right. He called his senses to order, exerting all his force of will upon them, and took her hand. She lowered her wards, and they vanished with a pair of quiet pops.

Once at Hogsmeade, Hermione made a beeline for the Owl Post Office, with Severus following her closely. He concentrated on maintaining the slack jawed, blank look of the Soulstruck. A few minutes later, her hastily scrawled acceptance to Minerva was on its way. When they went back out into the street, she was dismayed to see that a storm had moved in and it was sleeting. The wind and cold struck through her lightweight robe chilling her immediately. She hastily Apparated them back to the street in front of her house and lowered her wards for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. She was about to cast the final Apparation to get them inside, when long fingers closed over her wand hand.

"You'll splinch us if you try it. Let me do it." He'd had the good sense to shrug into his heavy jacket, and wasn't feeling the cold. Hermione was too tired and chilled to argue, and handed him her wand. In another moment, only the sleet and wind spun through the space where they'd stood.

The two reappeared in her living room where the sudden warmth made her dizzy. She clutched at the nearest object to keep from falling. That said object was Severus didn't seem to matter. Even after her head quit spinning, she held onto him, enjoying the closeness. He made no attempt to pull away from her.

Severus stood still as she seized him, fighting the overwhelming urge to sweep her off her feet and carry her into her bedroom. Just what he'd done that morning, he reminded himself. He opened his mouth to tell her to release him, when he realized that she was reacting to the change in temperature. When she didn't let go in a few moments, he wondered if she was possibly ill.

"Hermione... are you well?" He raised a hand and touched her forehead, searching for symptoms of fever. She was a trifle flushed, but her skin felt cool to his practiced fingers.

She unwound her fingers from him reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Severus. I was just dizzy. Too much Apparating in too short a time." She made no move to step away from him. "I haven't kept up with the weather reports in Scotland – I had no idea a storm was going to blow in."

"Obviously, or you would've worn something more appropriate," he said dryly.

Hermione nodded. "Yes – and I need to change before I catch a cold or worse. I'm going to turn in for the night; it's been a long day." Their eyes met, and a thousand unspoken words were exchanged.

"Good night then, Hermione." Before he thought about what he was doing, he tilted her head up and kissed her gently. Then her hands were pulling his face down to hers, and her body pressed up against him. The blood roared in his ears as his senses were overwhelmed with a rush of sensuality. Déjà vu be damned, he thought. The couch was closer than the bed, if not quite as comfortable.

~*~

When conscious thought returned, Severus found himself sprawled on the floor, where he'd evidently fallen asleep. Or passed out, perhaps. He levered himself into a sitting position. A glance at the clock told him that it was four in the morning. Hermione was asleep on the couch. As he looked at her, she sighed in her sleep and smiled. He felt his groin tighten again with desire, and fled into his room shutting the door behind him, not bothering to retrieve the clothes he'd been wearing.

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned quietly. What was it about that girl – no, that woman -- that caused him to lose anything resembling self control? She was like a drug in his system, fueling his passions beyond his dreams, leaving him aching like a teenager.

A drug. Severus stopped castigating himself and thought about it. Would she have dared? He recalled the discussion about the Amorata. She certainly had the courage to risk poisoning herself. But she hadn't known about the modifications added by the Borgias. He strained his memory, trying to recall the events of the morning. Good Merlin! It had only been that morning!

He remembered going out for a morning walk, measuring the boundaries of her back garden. Then he sat in his recliner while she made tea and talked with Potter and Weasley. Then... ah, yes. He'd picked out his Souljar. Now surely that bore some thinking about. The jars all looked alike, but that one had somehow stood out, as if it was connected to him at some level. He filed the thought away for later.

The Weasleys. He hadn't been in the room, but he knew Molly Weasley's voice. He had heard her speaking the incantation to break the Soulstriking of her third son. Then things had been quiet for some time. Hermione had called him into the living room eventually. He tried to visualize the scene... he was standing next to the table. She... she pierced his thumb with a needle to get the blood. He stared at his hand, at the minuscule scab and noticed the faint tenderness there for the first time. What then?

She'd drunk the contents of a vial and set it back down on the table next to a mug and another vial. He remembered the face she'd made at the taste. Then she'd... she'd used the needle again and let a drop of her blood fall into the mug. His temples throbbed as memory came flooding back. He'd drunk the second vial and followed it with the contents of the mug. He remembered the overpowering sweet taste well enough. Then... she'd cast the spell.

Furiously, he strode back into the living room. She was still asleep on the couch, still smiling. That would change quickly enough. "Granger! Wake up!"

Her eyes flew open. "Hmm? What?" It always took her a moment to reorient herself when she woke up.

"Wake up. Now."

She stared blearily at the clock. "It's four a.m. , Severus."

He glared at her. "What are you playing at, Granger?"

"I...I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Fool! Meddling with things you don't understand! You couldn't be bothered to research the Amorata properly, is that it? Or did someone else put you up to it?"

Uh oh. He's figured it out. And he's not happy. "Severus, I –" she twisted upright and snatched at the afghan on the back of the couch to cover herself.

"Were you going to tell me? Or did you think it would be amusing to watch me beg for your favors such as they are?" He looked her up and down with contempt. "You've had your fun, I suppose." He stopped as his stomach tied itself into a large and painful knot. The Amorata was beginning to take effect.

"Severus – it wasn't like that!"

"What then?" He spat the words out around the twisting pain in his insides. "What possible reason could you have for drugging me? Damn you, Granger, you knew it wasn't necessary!

She gulped. "I thought it would level the playing field... make it easier for you to get used to life again. I didn't know about what Borgia did to the potion – my book didn't mention anything about it!"

"Ignorance is no excuse." He straightened painfully and glared at her from his full height. "You know better than to trust a single source completely, Miss Granger. Do you realize what your infernal idiocy has condemned me to?"

"This isn't just about you, Severus!" She got to her feet, matching his glare with her own as a headache blossomed behind her eyes. "There's more important things going on at the moment than you – or me – or any single wizard. Quit being such a self-centered prick!"

Merlin's balls! Did she have to be right?