"Invisible"
This was written for the Great Love challenge on the DeviantArt SeverusHermione group. The story is based on the myth of Eros and Psyche. Thanks to Lesley, Brandy, and Stephanie for helping.
Challenge:
Create a SS/HG story or art based on or off a romantic tale in history or a work of fiction. Example: Cleopatra and Mark Anthony or Romeo and Juliet
Does not have to be the exact story you chose, themes and plots could be used only and it doesn't have to be tragic, use your imagination, get creative.
Rules:
·Hermione should be of age
·Fanart/story - keep it clean.
Artist:
Can use any medium.
Writers:
Write a one-shot 1000 words or more. Poetry is welcomed. The rest is up to your imagination.
Summer after the Trio's sixth year.
Pain. Pain was the first sensation that flooded Hermione's gradually growing awareness. The simple act of breathing proved laborious when her chest screamed in protest. Muscles jerked sharply with spasms. Blood vessels and nerves burned. Her throat was raw and dry. Her head pounded in a steady rhythm, only ceasing to alternate occasionally to a piercing pain.
Darkness. Darkness assaulted her eyes as she became fully awake. No light of solar or lunar source offered any reprieve. There were no windows to be seen. No gentle glow of a torch or bright burst of a Lumos spell came to her aid either. No light even dared to creep under any doors to give to a point from which to orient herself. There were no doors, only the impermeable blackness that surrounded her.
Hard. Hard, rough stone pressed mercilessly into her body. Her hands grazed slowly over the cool stones before she firmly positioned them. With a hesitance born primarily of pain and weakness, she attempted to push herself into a sitting position. She failed miserably, and her back landed sharply on the unforgiving stone. Giving up for the moment, she tried to concentrate more on her surroundings for any indication of life. Her eyes eventually became accustomed to the complete absence of light. Her mind struggled to overcome the haziness and physical agony that served to disorient and distract her. She needed to focus, to remember…
Screams. Screams echoed in her mind as memories began to resurface. Her parents! The telltale pops of Apparition had warned immediately of danger. Someone had removed the Apparition wards and alarm spells on the safe house. She had screamed for her parents to run, to get the Portkey. There had been too many Death Eaters. Black cloaks and white masks dominated her vision. Her parents were seized before they could move. A body bind sent her crashing to her side before she could even draw her wand. Four of them pinned her mother's struggling body to the floor in spread-eagle fashion, while her father's arms were grasped roughly between two large forms and shoved against a wall. One of the spectators then stepped forward, with wand raised, toward her father.
"Imperio.
Her father was no match for the force of the attack. Once he was under control, the Death Eater placed a knife within his now released hands and moved away. Hermione watched in horror and helplessness as her father murdered his wife and then himself. Her mother's pleas and screams for him to stop would never leave her mind, nor would the sight of their blood.
The Death Eaters turned their attention to her next. Her wand was taken and tucked away in one of the black robes. The body bind continued to immobilize her as one kicked her in the chest.
"Enjoy the show, little Mudblood?" One of the faceless Death Eaters sneered. "Such a pity you couldn't be a part of it, but we can still have fun. Finite Incantatum." She felt the body bind release just in time for her to hear, "Crucio! Beg, Mudblood, beg for the pain to stop."
That was all she could remember before agony drove her to the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. Now she was a prisoner left unarmed, essentially blind, and injured.
The gentle sound of stone against stone returned her from her nightmarish reflections. Looking up abruptly, she watched the stones rearrange themselves into an arched doorway, reminding her oddly of her first trip to Diagon Alley. Light penetrated the darkness upon her painfully unprepared eyes. Blinking rapidly, she was surprised to find the doorway bereft of any presence. She expected to see the outline of at least one Death Eater. When an unseen hand suddenly pressed against her mouth, she nearly shrieked in fright.
"Do not make a sound," breathed a masculine voice against her ear. "Survival depends on your silence and unquestioning obedience. Do you understand?"
Hermione's first thoughts jumped to Harry and his invisibility cloak, but that voice couldn't possibly be his. Harry also would have revealed himself when he saw her. A myriad of questions rushed through her mind. Though frightened, obviously this was neither the time nor the place for her inquisitive nature. She inclined her head slightly to show her agreement. The hand moved away from her mouth as she felt the other hand cup her head to ease it up. The cool glass of a vial pressed itself to her lips.
"Drink. It will help with the pain and weakness," he explained, more to expedite her compliance than sate her curiosity.
Having no choice but to trust him, she drank the vial of promised liquid relief. The bitter healing potion did lessen her pain and weakness, but her movements were still limited. He replaced the vial he had just removed with another. She looked at the place his voice came from questioningly.
"Invisibility potion."
That explained why she couldn't see him! This flavorless potion slid down her throat seemingly without effect. Her body remained as visible as before, but he made not mention her conspicuousness as the vial disappeared. The hand cradling her head glided slowly down her back, pulling her gradually into a sitting position.
"I'll have to carry you," he informed her. He knew how physically debilitated she was. Her captors had taken sadistic pleasure in relaying the excruciating details of the abuse she had suffered, proudly displaying her wand, which he had liberated from their possession, as a souvenir of their adventure. Her lack to reaction to his arrival didn't go unnoticed either.
He slid one arm under knees and the other just below her shoulders. Gracefully and tenderly, he lifted her into his arms as her own body finally faded from view. He moved swiftly through the archway, stopping only to whisper the password to restore the stones to their previous location. He then raced them through a series of labyrinthine corridors before arriving at a briefly ascending stairway.
Hermione rested her head lightly upon his chest. Its rise and fall soothed the pain of her mind and body. It may have been something simple to focus on, but it was calm, steady security to her chaos. The arms that cradled her also offered comfort. It seemed that they could protect her when others could not. She knew logically that she should be realistic and that anything could happen to them at any moment. But right then, her traumatized mind did not care. She would take shelter here in his warmth for what time she could.
The soft light of the moon soon fell upon Hermione's face. The sight of headstones quickly caught her attention. This was Riddle Manor! Her savior continued through the graveyard and beyond, she assumed, the Anti-Apparition wards. Once clear of the spell's influence, they disappeared with a pop.
The house awaiting their arrival was far from luxurious. Layers of dust coated every visible surface. Fabrics long past their prime served as curtains and bed sheets. The carpet was worn bare in numerous places. Cobwebs ran rampant along the ceiling and corners. Faded, cracked wallpaper lined the otherwise bare walls.
He wasted no time when they materialized. He strode immediately to the bedroom to relieve himself of his delicate cargo. He laid her upon the bed and stepped away. She instantly missed the closeness and the warmth.
"I'll return in a moment," he promised, his voice still low.
Moments later she watched in fascination as two vials appeared to float across the room. She tried to reach for them when they came close enough.
"Allow me."
She felt the bed shift to accommodate his weight as he slid his hand to cradle her head from its indention on the pillow. The first potion helped to fight against her physical ailments, the second counteracted her invisibility. It was startling to watch her body suddenly manifest, but she did not have long to contemplate it before he spoke.
"You have questions." It wasn't an inquiry but a statement of fact. "The most pressing of which are my identity and our location, no doubt. Am I correct in my assessment?"
It was strange to stare at the wall and believe she was talking to someone. She desperately wished to put a face with the voice.
"I would like to know who to thank for my life. My outcome would have been far from pleasant without your interference," she paused, waiting. When no answer came, she pressed, "So who are you?" She was more interested in discovering the identity of this mysterious man than why he hadn't taken her to Hogwarts or Number 12 Grimmauld. She assumed he had Apparated them to an Order safe house for the sake of convenience and rest before confronting the inquisitions of the other members of the Order.
"Someone who cares about you," he said, softly and sincerely.
"That wasn't particularly informative."
"Did you expect a straight answer when you haven't even seen my face?"
"No, but why should you fear my reaction to your identity when you rescued me? Please tell me who you are."
Thoughts of her rescue brought more questions to her mind. She now began to wonder how she had been found so quickly, when the warning spells had been disabled. How had the Order learned of her disappearance, much less found her? Her assumption that this man was an Order member and this was an Order safe house was looking less and less feasible. Warning bells started to go off in her head. This situation may not be much better than the one she was just taken from. However, she couldn't bring herself to be scared of this man, invisible though he may be. Would someone who meant her harm show her such kindness? Perhaps, it was a ruse to gain her trust. Only time would give her answers.
"I am neither of the darkness that plagues our world, nor the light that battles against it. A servant of the latter, yet a mixture of the two. My face is not who I am. I want you to know me for who I am, not what you see and believe me to be."
"Will you at least tell me where we are?" she asked doubtfully, considering the vagueness of his previous answers.
"My home," he stated simply. He saw her mouth open in preparation for more questions and interrupted her abruptly. "I believe that is enough for tonight. You need your rest." He pulled another vial from his cloak and pressed it to her lips. "Tonight you'll need the Dreamless Sleep potion."
The pressure of his weight lifted from the bed. Again, she felt abandoned. She missed his presence, but uncertainty prevented her from asking him to stay.
"How am I to address you if you won't tell me your name?"
Her rescuer paused, "You may call me Famulus."
Servant? Interesting choice of names.
"Call me Hermione."
"Very well. Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Famulus."
Severus closed the bedroom door quietly behind him. His mind was overwhelmed with the events of the last few hours. He still found it hard to believe that she was in his house, much less his bedroom. He had to get her off of his mind. The consequences of his actions had to be dealt with.
He Apparated suddenly back the boundaries of the Anti-Apparition wards. His already hurried pace quickened as he headed toward the manor. Passing down the stairs and through the corridors, he arrived back at her cell. He had to make it appear as if Hermione-no, Miss Granger, he corrected himself- had never left. He whispered the password to enter and again to hide his actions. He knelt and placed the small object he removed from his robes onto the floor.
"Engorgio!
The small object expanded into a feminine body that would be the new Miss Granger. His hand slipped into the fold of his robes in search of another vial, a variation of the Polyjuice potion. However, this potion lacked the need to be ingested and without the time restriction, lasting until the antidote was taken. From another pocket, he withdrew the hair he had taken from the back of her robes. A few drops later and Miss Granger's double lay motionlessly before him.
Snape quickly averted his eyes. The image and idea of Hermione's death was unthinkable. The need to escape the cell was urgent. He didn't even want to be near that body, because possibility of it actually happening was too realistic. In fact, it could've easily happened today. Guilt flooded his mind. Her parents were dead because of him. Rationally, it wasn't his fault. He hadn't been there, nor had he ordered it done, but the Dark Lord had commanded for him. The Dark Lord wasn't pleased when he had learned Severus had fulfilled Draco's orders and punished them both accordingly, explaining Snape's depleted supply of potent healing potions. However, his serpentine "master" couldn't deny his success. Hermione was his reward for killing Albus.What loyal Death Eater wouldn't appreciate the opportunity to hurt someone close to his master's nemesis? She was his to do with as he wished. He hadn't even known of the attack. The Dark Lord had summoned him from gathering ingredients and delivered the news. Still, in his mind, all roads of guilt led back to him.
The weight of guilt was a familiar pressure upon his mind and heart. The events of recent months had substantially increased that burden. Nausea swept his body at the memory of that night on the Astronomy Tower. At the moment he couldn't help but to hate Albus. Albus was the only one that believed in him. True, the Order hadn't trusted him before, but it was worse now. He was Albus's murderer. Nothing that had happened before mattered, because now that was all he had become. They wouldn't believe he'd been ordered to do it, that he was forced to obey because of an Unbreakable Vow with Dumbledore. His Pensieve memories would be labeled as tampered with. He was now alone with the reptilian devil and his demons.
His mind turned back to his conversation with Hermione. She wanted to know what he was afraid of. Her. He was scared of the look of repulsion and hatred he was sure he would find. He had seen that look for years on the faces' of students and a few colleagues. He didn't dare chance seeing it on her face. He shook his head in disgust. He shouldn't care what she thinks. He shouldn't even be thinking about her. He had saved her because it was the right thing to do. There was nothing more to it.
Memories of her in his class flashed through his mind. Her eagerly waving hand. Her deep brown eyes starring in complete attention. Her hands deftly handling ingredients. She was an irritation at first. The other students allowed her to carry them through the class by always having the answer. Slowly, he began to appreciate the sharp mind that rested under the bushy hair. She sought knowledge for its own sake. He rarely saw that, most people acquired knowledge by requirement or for a certain purpose. His respect for her intellect evolved into something more by the end of her sixth year. Jealousy had been his first indictor something was wrong. She was the one thing that he envied Potter for. Potter had her friendship, loyalty, and love; All things he desired to be on the receiving end of.
He growled in frustration at himself. It served no purpose to dwell on impossibilities. He needed to report her death (a failed potion experiment) to the Dark Lord. The bastard was going to dump the body outside Hogwarts to mock the Boy-Who-Never-Learned.
Sunlight streamed brightly through the dirt-coated windows, pulling her from her deep sleep. Her eyes blinked rapidly and stretched slowly, mindful of the remaining pain, to clear the remnants of sleep. The scent of fresh toast drew her attention to a nightstand on her right. Two slices of toast, now divided into twelve little squares complete with butter, rested on a small white plate next to a steaming goblet. His voice caused her head to jerk in the direction of an armchair in the corner before she could even reach for either plate or goblet.
"Nice to see you awake. The potion will eliminate discomfort you may still be suffering from. Once I know you are able to keep that down, I'll prepare you something more substantial."
"How long was I asleep?"
"About twelve hours."
"How could you allow me to sleep so long? I need to get to Hogwarts. The Order..." she stopped herself, thinking she may have revealed too much. She didn't know who she was dealing with after all.
"You mean the Order of the Phoenix? You want to warn them, don't you? The Dark Lord knew where to find you, so he may very well know where others are hiding. Could that be what you're thinking? They have already been warned. They were warned that the safe houses were vulnerable, that there were members that couldn't be trusted," he said bitterly. "Those warnings were ignored. You will not be going to Hogwarts, or anywhere else."
"You cannot keep me a prisoner here. What makes you so different from the Death Eaters that held me captive?" she demanded.
"I would give my life to protect you!" he screamed angrily, tossing her wand onto the bed. Now they were on more equal footing.
His vehement response and the sudden appearance of her wand shocked her into momentary silence.
"Why will you not allow me to return to my friends?"
"If any word go out that you were alive, I would be dead. There are far more people that serve as spies for the Dark Lord than you realize," he replied, defeated.
"Explain."
He spent the next few hours explaining the body, the potion, and his position as a Death Eater.
Hermione's gaze lifted from her book to the calendar on the wall. Only one month had passed since she had been captured and rescued, yet much had happened in that span of time. The first days with Famulus were among the most difficult. Nightmares plagued her sleep and memories haunted her waking hours, leaving her curled in a fetal position and sobbing, but Famulus always came. His presence eased the feeling of grief that threatened to overwhelm her from the loss of her parents and her former life. He would pull her gently into his arms and murmuring words of understanding and comfort. He never demanded that she speak of it and waited for her to do so willingly. She would clutch at his invisible robes as if her source of comfort might simply vanish. Her would nose buried itself against his chest to hide and to absorb his soothing scent of herbs. She often wondered if he ever slept or left her side, though she logically knew better.
When she could cry no longer, her mind became more focused. The pain did not dull or disappear, but she could suppress it by turning her attention to her situation and the man responsible. Her thoughts revolved around his actions, his intentions, and discovering his identity. He had shown nothing but consideration for her wellbeing by cooking healthy dishes, satisfying her need for books with "borrowed" ones, and providing her with company through intellectual conversation. He never assumed she would not comprehend a topic, nor did he allow any subject to be taboo between them.
Famulus's lack of reservation allowed her to slowly know more about her invisible man. A few hours each day were reserved for their conversations. Those few hours a day were what she looked forward to most. Each day gave her a few more pieces in the puzzle of his identity. It did not take long for the pieces to fall into place and form the face of Famulus. The face of Famulus also happened to be the face of Severus Snape. Famulus was the same man who had made the lives of her and her friends miserable for six years. The man who enjoyed berating and belittling his students. The man who had murdered Albus Dumbledore. Snape was also the man who had held her when grief ravaged her body. The same man whose hand ghosted over hair when he thought she was asleep. The same man risking his life to find and destroy the Horcruxes that he could. All of these were aspects of the man she had come to know and care so deeply about.
He was going to reveal himself. It was finally time to show her the real him. He'd risen early and taken the antidote. Now he sat at her bedside watching her dream.
"Hermione. Hermione, wake up."
She stirred at the sound of her name.
"Hermione," he called again.
Her eyes finally snapped open and focused on his face.
"Professor," she said, uncertain of how to address him and in part because of habit. She smiled at him. "You finally stopped hiding."
"I'm not your professor any longer. I thought we would passed such formalities by now. Since you've figured out who I am, I believe you may call me Severus.
"I never believed you were a traitor, Severus. It didn't take much figure out who could've possibly helped me."
Her hand cupped his cheek.
"You're no coward. You have proven that countless times. Don't let this be the first."
She kissed him hesitantly before he finally responded. He couldn't believe her lips were actually pressed against his. She cared about him. But did she love him? He needed to know.
"I love you, Hermione," he spoke hesitantly, a tremor of fear in his voice.
"I love you, too, Severus."
Now all they had to do was survive.