Disclaimer: The HP universe is not mine. The plot, however, is.
Bound
Chapter One
Hermione sighed; her eyes were tired and her back ached. She'd been staring over the papers for well over eight hours, with no break, insisting to herself, and to others, that there must be some sort of loop hole that the lawyer had missed. There just had to be.
She let her head fall back and groaned.
"Sweetheart, I think you should take a break." Hermione looked over at the door, tiredly; her mother had a tray covered with food, in her arms.
Pushing the papers off her lap, she moved to the edge of the sofa. "I know, I know."
"Harry and Ron came by to see you; they were concerned when you didn't reply to any of their owls."
Hermione glared at her mother. "And what, exactly, did you tell them?" Huffing, she got to her feet and turned to gather her bits together. Sheets and sheets of paperwork and parchment were slowly shuffled into a partially organised pile while Hermione waited for an answer. "Well?"
"I told them you were trying to–"
"Please tell me you didn't," she groaned. "Mother!"
"I had to tell them something, and they would have found out sooner or later, and I would have thought that you'd jump at the chance to have Ron–"
"No! We've been through this, mother. We're just friends. Friends! It wouldn't work between us… he's like a brother to me." Hermione quickly shoved everything into a folder. "I'm going out."
"You have to eat, darling. Your father is worried and you know how he can get."
Hermione was practically a splitting image of her mother except for her father's genes which had finally come into effect and calmed her frizzy hair into soft, loose curls. Her brown eyes, which usually held a sparkle within them, had dulled in the last few days, and the haunted look she had worn since the war with Voldemort had finished was more evident than usual.
Ignoring her mothers concern and words of warning, Hermione threw the folder onto the coffee table and picked up her wand. "I'll be home soon." Giving her mother a quick peck on the cheek, Hermione turned and Disapparated.
Severus Snape was alive and well. He'd survived the war with Voldemort and escaped conviction for being a Death Eater, a spy and the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. Although this was largely due to the uncharacteristic help that Harry Potter had given him during his trials and after; the press had not been kind to him, to begin with. And it took several bribes of interviews before they agreed to leave him alone unless they had something nice to say.
The peace and quiet that his life now consisted of had caused paranoia to spring up. And even after a year to get used to it, he still warded every room as he entered or left just to make sure that everything was well. He had retained the use of two house-elves, but had set the rest free… Kreacher had proven that they weren't all to be trusted, and so he kept only the ones which he had the deepest bond with.
He looked out the window, which was still covered in grime; at first he had not wanted to clean the windows in case rogue Death Eaters had noticed him there… and now he was used to the filth that coloured his view of the outside world.
It wasn't that he was short of money that made him stay in the old run-down house. It was the thought of leaving the one place that had always managed to protect him. The house was a safety blanket that he had no intention of giving up without a fight. All these thoughts were constantly swirling in his mind, though they were persistently pushed back by his Occlumency.
Wrapping his cloak around him, he made his way out the front door. He had a job to do.
Hermione walked down the muddy track, pulling her skirts as they snagged on brambles on either side of her. Harry and Ron would have had a fit if they knew where she was, and alone at that. However, she just didn't care; there was only one person that could help her in her predicament. Only one person she trusted enough to ask for help, knowing everything she said would be held in the strictest of confidence.
Severus Snape.
Glancing up, and to the end of the path, she saw some movement in the distance. Fearing it might be Snape, off on some errand, she sped up and called out to him. Breaking into a run, she quickly reached his side, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming out in pants.
"Severus."
His face remained stoic, blank and stern but she noticed his eyes softening slightly as he gazed at her. "Yes, Miss Granger?" The corners of his mouth quirked up into a smirk.
"Severus, I have a favour to ask of you." Hermione raised a hand to her chest as she began to catch her breath. "Urgently."
"I see." He seemed to search her face for a moment, settling on her lips for barely a second before flitting back up to her eyes. "I'm about to go out; can it wait till I return?"
Instead of replying, she nibbled on her lower lip, pondering his question. His gaze was captivated as she sucked at the plump red lip, gulping and clearing his throat several times before he could gain control of his thoughts once more.
"Miss Granger, perhaps you would like to join me on my errands?" He watched as her gaze shifted up to his; her eyes brightened a little. It was a rare sight and he took pride in the fact he could create a sparkle, no matter how small.
"I'd like that, Severus." Hermione took the arm he offered, and as they started walking, she moved closer to him.
Their playful banter was not new, but it still kept Hermione on her toes every time he smiled. She always expected his stern professor persona to pop back in and for him to take away points every three seconds; although secretly, she liked the fact that every meeting with the severe man was exciting and new.
"So, what has been troubling you so that you feel the need to visit this old man." Snape turned a corner, pulling her closer to him, their leg and hip now brushing against each other.
"You are not an old man, Severus, and you know it. You are barely middle aged."
Snape squeezed her hand. "Perhaps for a Pureblood, but you forget, minx, that I am Half-Blood."
"Why, so you are, Prince." She giggled, and the sound gave him the urge to chuckle; but he restrained himself, she had yet to answer his questions.
"Miss Granger…" his tone was warning, and she gave him a look before she sighed.
"It's my inheritance."
AN: I look forward to reading your reviews!