Gringotts

A/N: Hugs and kisses to Lariope, as well as to everyone who reviewed. Thanks guys.

Another, semi-related thought: I just posted a pile of word frequency statistics on fanfiction love scenes (my fics) over at my livejournal (redorchids.livejournal.com). It's a very late response to a post by TheOhara on the subject (if you haven't read it, you really should, that's one of the funniest things out there) and a pretty funny concept. I'd love to get more people to compare with. What do you say? :-)

Chapter 7 – Gringotts

Breaking in was almost too easy.

She had taken the Polyjuice Potion and slipped into Bellatrix's skin. After the many ventures into the woman's mind, the transition felt almost natural. She remembered how the longer limbs felt as she sat down on a chair to put on her shoes and how the dark hair danced as she shrugged her shoulders. The clothes felt like home, all dark silk and wool, warm and comforting. They left the chamber and reappeared in Diagon Alley. A wind caught a dark tendril and blew it into her face. She pulled the cloak closer around her and smiled; it still smelled like him, even though nearly twenty years had passed since he'd taken it from his back and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Shall we?"

She rose from her reverie and remembered who she was, where she was, with whom and why. Further down the street, she could see Gringotts, gleaming in all its marble splendour in the morning sun. She nodded, and they walked towards it, side by side. He didn't offer his arm, and a quick connection with her "memories" told her that Bellatrix wouldn't have accepted it even if he had. There was a deep unease in her mind whenever her eyes fell on Snape. Part of it was jealousy...that another should be so high in her Lord's favour...but there was something else as well, something she couldn't define, which told her in no uncertain terms that no matter what he did, or what he said, she would never fully trust Severus Snape. Nevertheless, she walked beside him through the doors of the bank, head held high.

With a small pang of fear, Hermione went straight to a counter to the right, marked 'privileged customers' and fixed the goblin on duty with a look of cool indifference. If the goblin was intimidated, he didn't show it, but simply took out a form and laid it on the marble counter before him.

"Vault number?"

"261"

"Key, please."

"I'm afraid it was taken from me," she said, the words falling easily from her lips. "As I informed you during my last visit." The goblin's expression didn't change, but she somehow knew that she had just passed the first control. He wrote something unintelligible on the form before him and looked back at her.

"Wand."

There were several stages of security questions after that, but the stolen memories gave her answer after answer without difficulty. She lashed out at the goblin twice, venting her fear and frustration while making sure to keep in character. This morning, before they left, she had gone over every single visit Bellatrix had made to Gringotts since her release from Azkaban, and the effort proved valuable. Before long, she and her scowling companion were motioned over to a small cart and driven off into the darkness.

"Leave us."

The accompanying goblin made a curt bow...so curt it bordered on insulting...and sealed the doors behind them. Hermione couldn't quite contain a small gasp as she turned to face the contents of the vault. She'd seen it before in her head, but to be only feet away from pile after pile of gold and jewels was really quite different. Snape brushed past her and went deeper into the vault to where a very credible copy of the Sword of Gryffindor was proudly displayed on a velvet pillow. He drew his wand and muttered something; sparks of light flew from it, touching the silver blade. White wisps of smoke began to rise from the metal, forming into distinct forms in the air above it. First, it showed Snape, lifting the sword out of a glass show case and hiding it on the inside of his robes; then it whirled into a different scene, one in which the same man could be clearly seen putting the sword down into its current position. After this, the smoke faded, and nothing else happened. The man put down his wand and turned to face her.

"It has not been moved," he said clearly, looking straight into her eyes. She looked back, slipping back into Bellatrix's mind and filing the comment away for later, the way he'd instructed her to.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased to hear it," she said simply. "Shall we go back then? I am sure you have many important things to do. Grading children's essays perhaps?"

"Ever the charmer," he replied coldly, stepping past her in a brisk walk towards the door. She followed him until he raised his hand, then blinked twice and drew her wand.

"I'm ready, Professor," she said, sliding completely back into her own mind again, shuddering as Bellatrix's memories seemed to cling to her and pull her back, like wet marshland. Snape stepped close and drew his own wand, putting it to her right temple. She mimicked his movement on the other side of her head.

"Focus," he instructed. "Push the memory towards the tip of your wand and start pulling away slowly once you feel the two connect." She closed her eyes and looked inward, trying to sift through her thoughts and find the ones she wanted. A presence crept into her mind from the point on her right temple, helping her filter the memory into a complete, credible unit before she pushed it towards the slightly warm connection point on the left.

"Good," he murmured, and she opened her eyes to watch the silver thread flow from her head. Ending the wand movement in a short flick, she withdrew the last of the memory and let it fall into a glass phial he was holding out before her. When it was done, he sealed the sample with a wave of his wand and put it in his pocket. Almost in sync, they turned back to face the piles of treasure. There was still much work to be done.

Hermione had scanned half of the shelves on the right side of the vault when she saw it. It was standing amidst a collection of beautiful golden goblets, melting in so well she'd almost missed it. Squinting, she managed to make out the badger on the golden surface and felt a wave of triumph surge through her. Helga Hufflepuff's cup. They had the fifth Horcrux.

"Over here," she called, walking closer. He caught up with her as she was almost at the shelf.

"You are certain?" he demanded, looking up at the object to see for himself.

"Yes," she confirmed, raising her wand to summon it to them. Before the first syllable was out, his hand cut her off, covering her mouth and silencing her rather forcefully.

"Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, letting his hand fall to grab her arm in an almost bruising grip. "Pray tell me, Miss Granger, as one who saw Albus Dumbledore sport a black and shrivelled limb for close to a year, how you came to the conclusion that it would be wise to summon a cursed object into your unprotected hands!" His words worked as a slap across her face, and a thin layer of something...something she hadn't realised was there...lifted from her eyes. She shook her head, trying to focus.

"I don't know what happened," she confessed, looking up at him. "I felt drawn to it. A Luring Curse, perhaps?"

"We'll see," he said grimly, drawing his wand and moving it in a wide arc above them. Coloured mist erupted from nearly every object, ranging from a sickly yellow to the darkest shade of black. She looked at the cup, which was standing in a sphere of dark red. The colour swirled with streaks of black and purple. It was the most sinister thing she had ever seen, including the locket that had poisoned her mind for weeks on end. There was something about the cup that the locket hadn't possessed, something which made the hairs on her arms stand on end. The golden object seemed to draw her in, pulling at strings in her body that had her breath quicken and a sense of deep longing spread down the back of her legs. She wanted to touch it. Needed to touch it. Not thinking, she reached out her hand, only to have it captured and twisted behind her back.

"What is that?" she gasped, trying to shake off the enchantment as Snape muttered spell after spell she didn't recognise from over her head. Slowly, the pull of the cup lessened, and when she looked back up, the mist was all but gone, and she could breathe more easily.

"Take it down and make the copy," he ordered, and she raised her wand in a third attempt. This time, he didn't stop her, and the cup flew smoothly into her hand.

"Geminio," she said, pointing her wand at it and watching a second, identical cup appear. She quickly put the real one in her bag and levitated the fake object to its place on the shelf. "There," she concluded, pocketing her wand. "It's done. Let's leave." She moved to walk towards the door, but once again, he stopped her.

"I'm afraid not," he said, the stony expression she'd seen quite frequently over the past couple of days back on his face. "The enchantments need to be reactivated or the goblins will know that something is amiss. This is a high security vault. A security spell is run daily to check for inconsistencies in the overall protection scheme. The absence of a curse this strong would set the alarms off immediately."

"Can you replace them?" she asked, fear creeping back up her spine. If he couldn't, they would probably still make it out, but how long before the Lestranges were alerted to the breach of security and traced it back to Snape?

"I'm afraid only you can cast that spell," he replied tersely. "Though I fear I will have to assist in some capacity." The look on his face worried her immensely...his jaw was clenched so tightly she feared for his teeth.

"What do I need to do?" Even as she asked the question, she mentally approached the part of her mind holding the stolen memories. If it was something he couldn't cast, she assumed it was somehow linked to Bellatrix.

"Look into your mind," he said, rather harshly. "I believe you will find the spell somewhere in the earlier memories. Once you do, tell me what you need."

Slightly perplexed at his request, she delved into the memories, sifting through the darkness. She thought she had seen everything, but apparently there was something else, something she had missed. Looking deeper, she focused her mind on the vault, deciding that the spell she was looking for had most likely been cast somewhere close to where she was now standing. Growing frustrated, she went faster, deeper, launching herself into sensation, pursuing the inner parts of the mind. The farther she went, the sharper the focus became, insanity decreasing as the path closed in on the memories Bellatrix had guarded most jealously. Sensation flooded her as she re-experienced moments with Voldemort, chillingly cold in all their burning passion. Her own mind rebelled, trying to escape the onslaught and make it back to safer ground. Just as she thought she wouldn't make it, she caught a glimpse of glittering gold and pressed on. Rounding a mental corner in the maze that was the other woman's mind, Hermione suddenly saw it.

She was on her knees on a bed of golden coins, legs spread as wide as she could get them, panting as she focused her wand on the gleaming object on the shelf. She cried out as the cutting sensations tore into her thighs, combined with the hard thrusts deep within her. Blood trickled down her breasts as she focused her last strength, forcing the syllables out between bruised and swollen lips. His hand joined hers, helping her to finish the last, fluid movement, whispering the words in her ear. Everything suddenly broke inside her, and she rejoiced as he tore into her flesh, sending her soul soaring through pure blackness.

Unable to stay a minute longer, Hermione tore her mind out of the memories and fell to her knees on the stone, violently ill.

"Scourgify."

A hand was on her shoulder, steadying her as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her sleeve. It wasn't really necessary, since the magic had cleaned everything in, on and around her, but the symbolic value of the gesture made her feel a little better. The hand moved down her arm to grab her elbow, and she unsteadily managed to get to her feet. She held her head down, unwilling to meet his eyes. Once she did, what she had seen in her mind would be inescapably real, and she would have to face what she knew she had to do.

"Miss Granger."

She pretended not to hear, even though she knew it was fruitless. Prolonging the process was the coward's way out, and she was not a coward. Standing where she was, however, sick to her stomach and dressed in Death Eater robes, the famed Gryffindor courage she was reputed to have felt like something out of an old book of fairy tales. She didn't feel brave. Not at this moment in a Gringotts vault, surrounded by gold, power and the presence of a man to whom she must shortly surrender everything. A man who had made it undeniably clear that he did not want her. She bit her lower lip hard to keep down the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. The look of disdain on his face as he'd turned her down... Even now, the memory of it made her want to die.

It was on the first night after running away from the Shell Cottage. She woke up screaming, her mind swimming with violence. Her body was tired, however, pulling her eyelids down automatically, pulling her back into sleep. As soon as they closed, the screaming recommenced, and she jerked them open, rolling over to her side and pinching herself hard to keep conscious. That was when she saw him, lying just feet away, black eyes open and watching her in the darkness. With a pang, she remembered where she was and all that had happened.

She wanted to close her eyes and force away the images that entered her mind. Harry, who had held her as she slept less than twenty-four hours ago, was in love with someone else. It hurt her pride more than her heart, but that didn't make the pain any less excruciating. Her mind replayed the kiss she'd walked in on, again and again. She had never seen Harry look like that...had never made him look like that...as though his life held something precious beyond belief, something several degrees more important than the destruction of the last Horcruxes and the salvation of their world. And Ron's face (what little she had seen) had echoed the look. And she was alone. For seven years, she hadn't been alone, and now she was, her two best friends too caught up in themselves to notice. It wasn't painful, it was unbearable. And now, she couldn't even close her eyes and repress because the venture into the Pensieve had filled her mind with pictures of torture and death, which surfaced as soon as she let her guard down. I need to forget...

"Miss Granger, if you are restless, there is a bottle of Dreamless Sleep in the first cupboard to the left in the bathroom. Please remove your hand from my person and spare me the indignity of being forced to act as a stand-in for your former devotee." She rolled away as though burned, shame flooding her cheeks. Oh, God! She had just propositioned Professor Snape. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God... Jumping off the bed, she practically ran into the bathroom, searching through the indicated cupboard and downing the potion in great, big gulps. Almost instantaneously, she sensed the effects, feeling her legs turn to water and her body glide down the wall to spread out over the cold tiles. She thought she heard footsteps just before nothingness took her and was grateful that they would not reach her in time for her to be sure they were really there.

To say that the girl had had a shock would have been an understatement. As far as he could see, she was nearly catatonic. He could well understand it...the scenes of Bellatrix's mind were sure to be troubling to a young and very innocent girl. The woman was insane in more ways than he dared to count, and her relationship with the Dark Lord since his return had twisted what little rationality was left after the Dementors' fourteen-year feast. He had watched her during the first rise: utterly enchanted, obsessed, willing to do anything that the Dark Lord commanded. But at least then, she had been reasonably sane. The years in Azkaban had warped enchantment into fixation, obsession into mania and willingness into compulsion. He had seen the memory that the girl had just had to access, though he hadn't grasped the significance of the spell at that time, and he understood the girl's terror. He would have liked to find another way or to have given her some time to process what had to be done at least. As much as baser parts of him ached to take her, his mind still riled at the prospect of being used, and he hated himself for wanting. Unfortunately, time was not on their side. The Polyjuice lasted for exactly one hour, and more than half that time had already been spent. Hoping the girl wouldn't hex him, he pulled her roughly into his arms and let his self-control slip a fraction as he claimed her lips in a searing kiss.

If breaking in had been easy, getting out was even more so...which was probably lucky since her brain seemed to have shut down completely from the moment he'd kissed her. Her mind was a jumble of confused images, some her own, some from Bellatrix's memories, and she couldn't keep focus anymore. Sharp pains in her feet brought her back momentarily, and she heard Snape...Severus...Something swear under his breath and wrap her tightly in his cloak, shielding her from outside view. The potion was wearing off. She was changing back, and her feet were now too big for the dainty shoes Bellatrix used to wear. The rest of her was shrinking, the clothes starting to hang from her smaller frame. The tug of Apparition had never before felt so liberating.

As soon as they stopped spinning, she kicked off her shoes, needing them off her. The cloak went next...suddenly anything that reminded her of being inside Bellatrix's body and mind made her feel sick. For an hour, she had been her...thought with her mind and experienced the pleasures of her body. The fact that she had enjoyed it was the worst of all. That she could enjoy such... She felt dirty all the way to the bone. The buttons were trapped, refusing to cooperate, and she cried out in frustration while tearing at the fabric with both hands. Tears were streaming down her face now, threatening to suffocate her, and she was screaming...screaming without knowing or caring what words came out.

Suddenly, the pressure on her throat lessened, and other fingers joined in with hers, making swift work of the buttons. Then there were lips...warm, powerful lips...crashing down on hers and pulling hidden moans out through her mouth from the back of her throat. His touch was entirely different from what it had been just a short while ago, when he had been re-enacting a set scenario for the sake of a curse, and the simple change in demeanour helped to calm her. Bending down, he put one arm beneath her knees, lifting her from the floor and carrying her over to the bed, where they collapsed together in a tangle of limbs. She could sense the blissful blank of passion begin to cloud her mind and kissed him back with abandon. "Thank you," she whispered over and over as her body responded feverously to his touch, letting him pull her deeper. Thank you.

A/N: Please review!