Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Hermione slumped against the door, her throat dry and raw. Either Severus wasn't in his room, or he had an Imperturbable up ... or he was ignoring her. She tried the door once more. Still locked, and far beyond what a simple Alohomora would open. If that was the case with this adjoining door, chances were that the other door was still locked, too.

She gently rubbed her aching knuckles. Backhanding Lucius hard enough to make him bleed hadn't done her any good. Pounding the same hand against the door only made matters worse.

If Severus wasn't in his room, where was he? His lab? With Fawkes in the aviary? A quick Apparition or two would answer that ...

Nothing happened. There was no squeeze of Apparition. Hermione tried again, this time focusing inside Severus's bedroom. Again, nothing.

'Bastard!' Lucius. It had to be. He must have blocked her passage through the manor's anti-Apparition wards.

She could make one more quick check. Hermione pulled out her wand and laid it flat on her palm. "Point me," she whispered, keeping her thoughts focused on Severus. Ordinarily it would point north, but it could be put to other uses if the caster had the necessary strength of mind.

The tip of her wand turned slightly to point at Severus's bedroom door. It didn't stay still, instead following his movements, shifting to and fro. He was pacing.

So he was licking his perceived wounds in his bedroom. What now? Wait until he cooled off enough to let her in? Send a Patronus message to make him listen to her? No, that wouldn't work. She didn't know how. If she'd ever found out, it was among the memories she'd lost.

Hermione pulled up her sleeve to check her watch. There were still most of the five hours left before the deadline Severus had imposed.

Plenty of time to have dinner and attempt to wash away the bad luck clinging to her with a nice long shower. After that, she could try the door again, and if the stupid man still didn't respond, she'd break the fucking door down.

Hermione called Tricksy. For once, the house-elf didn't glare at her. That was strange, especially considering that she'd struck precious Master. Maybe Tricksy didn't know about that, or she knew and didn't approve of Lucius's actions. Whatever the case, this was hardly the time to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Tricksy brought up a plate of lasagne, with a tray to balance it on Hermione's knees where she sat on the end of her bed. After coming back with a glass of wine and a bowl of fruit salad, Tricksy cracked away again.

Hermione wasn't in the mood for wine. A quick spell changed it into water, and she gulped it down. She'd be able to speak to Severus now, at least, rather than croak at him.

Hungry as Hermione was – she'd managed to forget about lunch – she could only pick at her food. Her eyes remained on the locked adjoining door. She forced herself to eat. She'd need her wits about her if Severus was going to listen. The lasagne was cold long before she finished. A Warming Charm didn't even cross her mind.

She pushed aside the tray and resisted the urge to try the door again. Instead she undressed and pulled on her dressing gown, before wandering into the bathroom.

The hot water felt good, but she couldn't enjoy it. Not when she was mentally pacing in front of the locked door like a caged tiger. The pads of her fingers had pruned by the time she gave up. The water still ran hot where any Muggle shower she'd been in would have long ago run cold, although that was magic for you. Despite the heat, her muscles were just as tense as before she'd set foot in the bathroom.

Hermione dried herself off and dressed for bed. When Severus let her in, he expected her to hop into bed with him. Wearing pyjamas instead of nothing under her dressing gown should make it clear that she wanted to talk first.

She stalked over to his door. It was unsurprisingly still locked. Surely two hours was long enough to hide away? It better be ... Hermione drew her wand.

'Reduc...Stupid! Check that the idiot I happen to love isn't in the way first ... Point me.' Good. Severus must be in his bathroom.

'Reducto!' All that happened was that the door glowed slightly red. Hermione tried it on the wall instead, only for the same thing to happen. Wait ... it wasn't the door or the wall. It was the wards.

Hermione hesitated, a more powerful spell on the tip of her tongue. Better check that Severus was still out of the way ... He was. If this worked, there wouldn't be much of his bedroom left.

'Defodio!' The glow was brighter, but both door and wall were unaffected.

Severus must really want to be alone if he'd thrown up wards like that. They must be stronger than Gringotts, or at least stronger than the ones Gringotts had before she, Harry and Ron had broken out on the back of a dragon.

What now? Try to break the wards? She could try, but it would only mean working herself into magical exhaustion. Wards that could repel that sort of magic were beyond her skills.

That left one thing to do: wait. Hermione levelled her wand at the door and concentrated. There. Now it would open as soon as it unlocked.

There were three more hours until midnight. Three hours until the deadline Severus set. Hopefully he'd see fit to let her in before then, but if he was angry enough to lock himself away, he might let her worry until the last minute.

Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed. Where was Crookshanks when she needed a purring furball to cuddle? She hadn't seen him since that morning.

She flopped back on the bed and reached for the book she was reading, one of Severus's detective novels: Strong Poison. After reading the same page twice, she gave up. Unsurprisingly, her thoughts were on the owner of the book, not on the story.

What could she do to make him listen to her? Take Veritaserum? She didn't know for sure if Severus had any. Legilimency? That depended on him, he might refuse. Shove him into a Pensieve memory? For that to work, she'd need to get her hands on a Pensieve. They were expensive; it was unlikely Severus had one. Lucius might, but he'd hardly let them use it.

Hermione dropped off into a restless sleep. She dreamed of running after Severus, only by the time she caught up he was behind a locked door. There were a hundred keys to try, and when she found the right one, there was another locked door. And another. And another. The last key broke in the lock with a loud click.

She jerked awake. The door had finally opened. It was almost midnight. Hermione sprang to her feet and dashed inside Severus's room. It was empty.

Hermione laid her wand flat on her palm once more. 'Point me.' It almost rolled off her hand as it spun anticlockwise. No, no, no ... He was out of range. Gone.

A glint of silver caught her eye from the bedside table. No. Not silver. Platinum. His wedding ring.

Her knees felt weak. She sat down on his – their – bed before she fell down. She hesitantly reached out to touch the cooling metal, her sight blurred by tears. Hermione angrily scrubbed at her eyes. Crying wouldn't help.

Something clinked nearby. Hermione sat bolt upright and pulled her hands away.

Tricksy stood in front of her and had set down a cup on the bedside table next to...

'Come on, Hermione, it won't ... won't kill you to think it: Severus's ring.'

"Tricksy helps Missy. When poor Mistress was upset, Tricksy gives her tea."

The universal panacea. It was what her mother would do, after hugging her. She definitely wasn't about to ask that of Tricksy, friendly as she was being at the moment.

"Thank you." She took the cup and cooled it to perfect drinking temperature with a murmured Cooling Charm.

She took a sip of the tea and swallowed. She blinked. 'What?!' The clock on Severus's bedside table, a Muggle style clock with Roman numerals. The short hand pointed at 'XII', as could be expected, but the long hand rested on 'I'. Five minutes past twelve. Yet her clock hadn't struck midnight ...

"Accio watch!" Hermione deftly caught her watch and set it down on the bedside table. She'd enchanted it herself so that it could never be wrong, and a quick spell assured her that it hadn't been tampered with.

It was two minutes shy of midnight.

Something was wrong.

Of course ... Those wards weren't Severus's doing. They were the manor's wards. Lucius's work. His fault! She stood up and stalked towards the door. The interfering bastard would soon learn his lesson ... And why was she still holding the teacup? So much for cutting a dramatic figure. Well, most heroines didn't have something like this land on them when they'd only just started a cup of tea.

Hermione raised the cup to her lips and paused. Something was very wrong. She put a hand to her throat. It burned.

The cup fell from her hands. Hermione clutched at her chest, more white-hot pain swelling with each breath behind her sternum...no, with each heartbeat. She fell to her knees, her scrambled thoughts only registering the sound of the shattering cup when shards of fine bone china drew blood.

"Help," Hermione called out, or rather tried to. Nothing happened, not even a whisper. There was only a rush of air, accompanied by a fresh wave of agony.

"Missy needs help?" Tricksy asked, appearing in front of her. The elf who'd brought the tea. Poisoned tea. Through the pain, her blood felt like ice.

'Innocent until proven guilty.' Hermione reminded herself. But if Tricksy was innocent, then ... The chill deepened. "Bezoar," she mouthed.

"Missy wants bezoar? Missy Mudblood can't have one." If Tricksy's words didn't confirm who the culprit was, the way the elf started to dance gleefully proved it.

Hermione closed her eyes as her sight blurred, at least two elves dancing in front of her. It didn't help; if anything her sight was even worse when she opened them again.

"You bad elf." She drew her wand. It felt heavy; she could barely lift it, her hand trembling. How was she supposed to Summon a bezoar?

"Bad Tricksy! Bad Tricksy!" Tricksy cackled, arms jerking as she struggled with the impulse to punish herself. She had something in her hand, easily as long as Hermione's hand span.

Before Hermione could try to focus on whatever Tricksy held, the deranged elf turned it on herself. As if from far away, Hermione heard a bubbling, raspy choke.

'Punctured her lung. Must have been something sharp.'

Tricksy would have to wait; while Hermione was no Potions Mistress, she knew she'd be a goner if she didn't get a bezoar or antidote down within a minute of swallowing poison. That left her mere seconds now.

"Accio bezoar." Nothing. Hermione clenched her teeth, forcing past the weariness weighing down her thoughts.

"Acc..." She doubled over, coughing and choking. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth.

'Oh no ...' Where was her wand? She couldn't see it, her vision a swirling blur. She felt around for it, her movements sluggish. Her fingers knocked it. She dimly heard it roll away.

More choking coughs shook her, the pain searing her throat. She collapsed to the floor, the silver carpet filling her vision. Crimson pooled across it, trickling from her mouth.

Her mouth ached, everything stung from her tongue to her teeth. But it paled next to the burn of her throat and knees, and the blazing of her chest. The fire spread further with every beat of her heart.

The blur of silver and blood red was fading. No, not just that, it was her sight. Everything was dimming.

There was something she was forgetting. Something she was looking for. What?

So much pain. All she wanted was to close her eyes and let the darkness take it all away.

She shook her head weakly. No. Severus. Where was he?

"Help," she mouthed, blood trickling out of her mouth with the futile rush of air.

No one came, of course; Severus had gone.

Darkness claimed her.

* * *

AN: Many thanks to Kribu, JunoMagic and Septentrion for betaing.