Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

“That which nourishes us also destroys us.” Snape released her hand.

“What did you do?” Fear crept into her voice as she wiped away their mingled blood on the pant leg of her jeans. Hermione inspected the thin line of the flesh wound that marred her palm.

“What you asked of me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You wanted me, Miss Granger, did you not?”

Hermione nodded dumbly, her thumb tracing the open wound. The skin pulled apart, and fresh blood leaked out.

“You have me,” he whispered, taking her hand in his larger one, “in blood and in body.” Snape gauged her reaction, willing her to understand the significance of his action.

Hermione jerked her hand from his grasp, her expression blank. “I don’t understand…. What did you do to me?”

Snape’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating so that his irises were almost indistinguishable from the clouded blackness.

“I thought…” He cleared his throat. Never had his eloquence failed him so, but tendrils of doubt and fear of rejection strangled his ability to wax poetic. “I thought you wanted this,” he swallowed, “wanted m—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Her fists balled, she pounded them into the upturned soil.

Snape recoiled, her words affecting him like a physical blow.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

“Forgive me, Miss Granger. I was mistaken in my assumption.” He stiffened, bitterness coating his words, self-hatred bubbling within at his show of emotion, of weakness.

“Bastard! Answer me!” Hermione spat, heaving clumps of dirt at the man before her, “you fucking bastard!” She launched herself at him, bowling them both over. Snape landed on his back with a hard thud, the air knocked from his lungs.

Small fists pummeled at his chest, his legs trapped between her spread thighs. Unintelligible epitaphs falling from her lips as she debased his person.

“Hate you.” She was panting, “hate you,” her aggression and adrenaline rush waning.

“Enough!” Snape thundered, moving to dislodge the girl.

Blindly, Hermione flayed, raking her nails across his cheek, fresh score marks raising on his pale skin as he succeeded in throwing her off.

Hermione was unceremoniously flung, falling in a heap at his feet.

Snape’s breathing was ragged; he coughed, choked by breathlessness.

Miss Granger hadn’t moved. She was huddled in fetal position, sobbing. He stood over her, withdrawing a monogrammed, green and sliver handkerchief from his pocket and tossing it at her.

“Please desist with your petty childishness.”

She turned her head to face him. “Git.”

“Miss Granger, your flair for insults is astonishing,” Snape mocked.

“Snivellus,” she spat, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk.

“Yes, how very original. It’s as if you breathe new life into a childhood taunt. Do try again.”

Hermione pushed herself from the ground, looking up at him, an amused smile flittering across her lips, as they had found themselves in this position once before.

“May I inquire as to what you find so amusing?”

“I just realized something, Professor.”

“And that would be?”

“Why Lily could never bring herself to love you. How could she love something with no soul, no—”

Hermione was yanked up by her shoulders, Snape’s face mere inches from her own.

“No what, Miss Granger? Please enlighten me with your acumen.”

“Heart,” she gasped, wincing in pain, his hold on her unrelenting.

“I can assure you, Miss Granger, your meager physical discomfort cannot amount to the pain that you wrought upon me.” He released her. “Do collect your specimens; it’s time we headed back to the castle.”

The persona of indifference slipped back into place.

Hermione didn’t miss the brief flash of hurt in the depths of his eyes.

“You hurt me too,” she whispered.

Snape turned from her and began the mundane task of cataloguing his jars.

“Miss Granger, I have done nothing but try to protect you. A task you delight in making increasingly difficult with your brashness and total disregard for my position.”

“But you ignore me, turn me away. You dismiss my feelings.”

“And you continue to act like a spoiled, petulant child who refuses to utilize her intellect in favor of a bleeding heart.”

“My bleeding heart brought me to you,” Hermione snapped, her pride wounded.

“Oh, yes, how can I forget? According to you, I do not possess a heart, and therefore, am incapable of understanding the intricacies of tender feelings, of love.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.” She had never felt such shame.

“But you said it all the same. Another lesson then, Miss Granger, once spoken-words cannot be taken back.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“I’ve seen Hufflepuffs who snivel better than you.” His caustic remark cut deep.

“I deserve that.”

“Oh, no, Miss Granger, you deserve so much more.” A chill ran up her spine at the calmness of his voice. “You deserve to have your soul laid bare, to express feelings that you’ve tried in vain to repress, to deny their existence.”

“Look at me!” he commanded when she turned away from his unyielding gaze.

Her tears fell harder.

“To profess something so deep that you thought you never could possibly feel again.”

He was on his knees before her. “To kneel before the mirage of your salvation, to symbolically offer your fealty in the form of a Muggle blood bond.”

Hermione felt weak. Her knees trembled and gave as she sank to the earth, her pallor turning green with sick.

“And to have that thrown back in your face.”

He was so full of loathing and vitriol; she was sure he would strike her.

“That is what you deserve.”

Her stomach churned, head light and dizzy. On her hands and knees, she vomited. Barely digested apple and bile coated the ground.

“Oh, God… Oh, God… No… No… No…” She repeated a softly spoken mantra.

A wail of anguish tore from her throat; she couldn’t catch her breath as the sobs began anew. Arms wrapped around her midsection. Hermione rocked herself back and forth.

“As touching as your act of contrition is, I will not absolve you.”

Amber eyes sought black. She was stricken at the empty hollowness she found in the inky depths.

“I—I want you,” she begged, broken.

“You had me.”

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A/N: As per usual thanks to my beta, SLU, and to all my readers and reviewers.

A/N: Snape's quote, "That which nourishes us also destroys us," is a loose translation of Angelina Jolie's tattoo. I saw her discuss her tattoo on an interview and thought it was a pretty thought provoking quote.