Duels and Dreams

Chapter 3 - Duels and Dreams

It had been a long day for Hermione. She had moved back into Hogwarts. Her room was comfy and had beautiful views over the breathtaking grounds surrounding the castle. Crookshanks seemed to have made himself at home. She had been worried that he might stress too much about moving, and he was an old cat. She had also been worried about seeing Snape after the dream she had had the night before. But both fears were unconfirmed; Crookshanks was curled up asleep, and Snape was keeping himself to himself; she should have known he would! In fact, since their little to-do on the walk from the gates, she hadn't seen him at all.

The sky outside was turning a deep red now. Not a good sign, she thought. Hermione sighed and sat down next to Crookshanks to fondle his ears as he purred softly. So far she was not enjoying her return, especially after the eventful dinner she had shared earlier.

Seeing as it was only seven o'clock, she didn't much feel like going to bed. Turning to the stack of books which she had chosen to accompany her, she scanned the titles: Charms For Charming Witches, Wards of the Wetlands, Norris's Guide to Self Defence. Nothing seemed to take her fancy really. She knew she should do some reading before tomorrow's meeting, but all she could think about was the past. Perhaps a stroll over the grounds would help her relax, get the reminiscing out of her system?

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Snape stood, dumfounded. Was he really seeing what he was seeing? Jasmie Aldovir laying, quite helpless, in a muddy ditch in picturesque Kent? She should be at Hogwarts the day after tomorrow; this was not where she should be.

"Severus?"

"Oh my God, it is her," he said to himself. "It's been a long time." He tried to smile, but it ended up as a grimace.

"Do I look that bad?"

"No, I..."

"Wasn't expecting me?" she offered. "Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to be here either, much less to meet you. Anyway, why are you here? If you don't mind me asking."

"I do."

"Oh."

Shocked by his bluntness, she thought it best not to simply lie on the ground before him. He obviously enjoyed making her feel inferior. When she tried to move, he could see the pain it caused her, and he wanted to help, but something in him was stopping him, holding him back. So he watched . . . Watched her sit up. Watched the tears tumble down her cheeks as she tried to fight them back. Watched as the crusty sleeve on her arm kept its folds and was caught up around her elbow. Watched the Dark Mark wriggle around on her forearm, a horrible reminder of the past they had shared. But now it was twinned with a new mark, though he couldn't quite see what it was. His curiosity beginning to get the better of him, he bent down to help her up (and too see this new mark). A look of sheer terror grew on her face, and he frowned. Had she not called for help? he thought. But then he felt a presence behind him; how did they know he was here?

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Hermione was wandering along the side of the lake when she too felt a familiar presence behind her. Hagrid. She turned to embrace the man, overjoyed to have finally met a true friend at Hogwarts. She had been here nearly a day and was already lonely.

Hagrid's home was exactly the same as she had remembered it: warm and cosy. The two of them fell into conversation very quickly. Hagrid asked her about her life since Hogwarts and was quite confused about her love life, or lack thereof.

"But yer a beautiful young woman, Hermione."

She smiled and took it all in her stride, as usual. She was used to people telling her to get out and meet people. She had been a bridesmaid at Ron's wedding last year, a day that had nearly driven her mad. She told Hagrid so.

"But they had only known each other six months!" she protested, when he didn't seem to be taking her side. "How can they be in love?"

"It doesn't take long at all you know. Love at first sight and all."

"That's not real, Hagrid. That's just lust."

It was well past sunset now, the clear sky punctuated by twinkling stars. There were no lights up at the castle, as far as she could see, so everything around her was either grey or ink blue, save for those stars above her as she walked away from Hagrid's. The midnight air was warm, but there was a chill in the breeze as it brushed by. Perhaps it will rain tomorrow. It was a delight for Hermione to be able to relax in the earthy darkness. Living in London, one rarely got to see true, honest night-time, and with the increasing threat of the Dark Lord, it was even more rare to be able to simply enjoy one's self like this.

She was just about to cross the threshold of the castle when a voice called to her from behind. When she turned, she couldn't see anyone at first, but slowly the ambling figure of Dumbledore approached.

"Miss Granger, you're out a bit late aren't you?"

"Sorry, Headmaster, I guess I just couldn't sleep."

He waved away her apology, saying something about him not sleeping either.

"Something's troubling you, isn't it, my dear?"

"No, Professor." But a look in his eyes told her that he knew, knew about her loneliness, about her now worrying about her sex life, about the dream she had had. Shit, surely he doesn't know about that? She had completely forgotten it herself, yet now, standing in front of him her mind had been drawn back to it. Was he inside her head? She went cold. It was not something she wanted people to know about; it wasn't something she even wanted to remember herself. In the midst of her panic, Dumbledore chuckled and walked inside, bidding her a goodnight.

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Hermione was trembling on the sofa. He could see that from the other side of the room. She would not meet his gaze, but he believed what she had just told him all the more.

"Hermione, I..." he started to say, but his lust could not be confined any more, and he crossed the room in one stride, snatching her up from her seat and meeting her lips with his in a time stopping kiss.

She sat bolt upright in her bed. What was going on in her head? He had even treated her appallingly when she had seen him yesterday, yet here was another dream. She knew she didn't like him. She was sure she didn't like him. Then again, it had been a very nice dream. But no, she could not like Professor Snape, she concluded. She must just be very, very lonely. However, she had not reacted to this dream the same way as she had to the other one. She felt herself even wanting to get back to sleep to finish it.

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Pettigrew was sitting at Voldemort's feet as usual. More like a pet than a Death Eater, thought Snape. He was unusually nervous today. Normally he faced the Dark Lord with a composed and focused mind, but the events of the day had left him quite shaken.

Jasmie seemed to have slotted back in to the run of things very quickly; she was sitting in a corner speaking with Lucius Malfoy as though nothing had happened. Probably comparing takes of Azkaban, he thought. Snape was curious why Voldemort had not punished her more for her slip-ups all those years ago; he had practically let her walk right back in, and that was not at all like him. He didn't have to wonder much longer though, for at that moment Voldemort pulled out his wand and rose from his seat, Pettigrew snickering at his back. The room went silent.

"Severus."

"My Lord?" Snape bowed from the waist, respectfully.

"I am seeking a little entertainment tonight. You have been lacking in action recently. Prove to me now that you have not lost your touch." The Dark lord smiled slightly at his own plan.

Just as Snape was about to ask the nature of the demonstration, Crabbe and Goyle, both long serving Death Eaters, crossed the room to where Jasmie was sat. He went cold inside, feeling a hunch about what was to be asked of him. Voldemort had obviously noticed his momentary hesitation and turned on him.

"Do you have a problem with this?" he hissed before screaming, "Crucio," and sending Snape to his knees. Snape's spine stiffened, but the muscles across his back seemed to be trying to bend it. Every nerve in Snape's body was on fire, and every cell was writhing in pain, yet his whole body stayed perfectly still, save for the slump to his knees. "It's been a while, hasn't it, old friend," he whispered into Severus's reddened ear. "Can you still remember the old days? Does the pain slip back through you just the way it was before?"

The breath on his cheek was almost too much to bear, even more than the numbness left in the wake of the curse. Shivers began to pulse through his body, sending him face first onto the floor, his mind erratically flashing through memories he was powerless to stop. After several minutes of these spasms, he relaxed and the room went dark. He felt dizzy, as though he were drunk; a gentle voice called to him through his blindness.

"Severus. Severus. Severus."

He lay, not knowing whether his eyes where open or closed, watching Hermione walk towards him, arms outstretched. She looked as though she were trying to catch him, he thought. It was this thought that carried him back into the room, confused and shaken.

"Haul him up, boys." Voldemort was crouched at his side. "It is now time for you to entertain me. A duel, I think!" He swept across the room, almost dancing to his leather-bound chair in the corner of the room, the dusty floorboards not seeming to bother his bare feet. "And remember, boys and girls, no Avada Kedavra."

"Master, I have no wand," came a quiet voice from the shadows.

"Never mind, my dear. You'll just have to work with what you've got." Voldemort smiled viciously, and Snape could see the malice in his eyes. This is her retribution, he thought.

Snape could see that she could barely stand, let alone fight him. Whatever had happened to her had left her badly burned up her left arm, the one she used to cast with, and she was obviously exhausted from travelling. This was not a fair fight. Could he really do this?

Slowly raising his wand, Snape steeled himself and half-spoke, half-whispered, "Crucio."

The duel had lasted almost an hour, yet Jasmie had barely managed to fire back a single basic jinx, which was dodged easily. When the Dark Lord had finally called it off, he told Snape to get her fixed up and then bring her back. He had said that he might have some further use for her.

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Jasmie watched from across the room as Snape fell to the floor. She saw even from that distance the light fading from his eyes. She had wanted to step in from the moment it had begun, but now she could not restrain herself any longer. Darting across the room she crouched at his slumped body, gently stroking his care-worn face and whispering his name.

"Severus. Severus. Severus." Slowly but surely he began to stir, and she was pushed away by Goyle, exiled once again to shadowy outreaches of the room. She pressed herself into the damp wall; the horror was plain to see in her eyes.

When at last the great man was hauled back to his feet, the blood was pumping through her ears so loudly that the other sounds of the room where muted, so she did not hear Voldemort's orders. All she saw was Snape raise his wand against her, and the bright light of a curse headed her way. He had betrayed me?

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The dawn that day was unusually beautiful, and as the sun crept over the hills to the east, two figures were making their way up towards Hogwarts castle. They were met at the great doors by Dumbledore, who escorted them inside.

"What happened, Severus?"

Snape simply shook his head. How could he tell Dumbledore all that he had done? They had had to cast several different versions of Ennervate to resuscitate her; for a while it looked as though he had done too well. She had looked so peaceful lying there on the floor, just like she had before she was taken from him. He resented her for leaving him so alone, but for that instant he completely forgot about that.

She was still dazed – he had practically dragged her to the castle – but now she was safe, so he need not have any more concern for her. He bid the Headmaster goodnight and left for his chambers. Perhaps sleep would make him feel more alert.

Hermione was trembling on the sofa, he could see that from the other side of the room. She would not meet his gaze, but he believed what she had just told him all the more.

"Hermione, I..." he started to say, but his lust could not be confined any more and he crossed the room in one stride, snatching her up from her seat and meeting her lips with his in a time stopping kiss. He felt her body soften into him, the curves of her breasts pushing gently into his chest. He allowed his hand to slide from her arm across her back and down to the top of her arse; she was more curvaceous than her clothes made her look, and he wondered what she would look like without them.

Snape woke in the morning with a presence he hadn't felt in a long time, a certain tension between his legs. He hadn't awoken with morning glory since . . . In fact he couldn't actually remember. He reached under the covers and instinctively began massaging his erection. That was when last night's dream hit him. Was she the reason for this? The thought of Hermione intensified the pleasure; he felt himself building up to a climax and he slowed his rhythm. This must be his first masturbation in nearly six years, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

The twenty minutes he was able to postpone his orgasm lasted a lifetime, and when he did relent it was with Hermione's name on his lips. Then he knew; he had to have her. At least once before the end.