Disclaimer: Just my ideas, no stealing going on. I own nothing.
Note: First of all I'd like to thank those who have been pushing for the new chapter, you give me the endurance to write and finish things. As my style is developing and the ideas are becoming more complex, it's getting harder and harder to finish a chapter in one sitting. I hope you enjoy this chapter for its duality and for the connection forged between the two main characters.
As always your thoughts, wishes and ideas are welcome. Any one who would like to beta please let me know. I need it!
Chapter 3: The Difficulties of Understanding the Darkness Within
"Psssst!" came a voice from behind the shed, it was sharp enough to turn Maddie's head but not enough to alarm her. "Pssst, Maddie over here."
It was the girl that the Master had picked up only a few weeks before, Erica. It never ceased to amaze the old women how much the girl had changed since her tentative start in Master Snape's household. The scared little creature that had come to her on a cold fall afternoon, and to her great surprise had blossomed through the winter. She was still skinny in Maddie's opinion, but now the maid's uniform at least fit her reasonably. Her face had filled out and there was a twinkle in her eye that had all but been extinguished a few months before. The girl had a good head on her shoulders, was smart as a whip and carefully managed her way round the other servants in the household. It was easy as the personal servant of the Master, his Chambermaid, to draw the ire and jealousy of the other servants working there. Those who wanted to move up or gain more influence would strive for such positions. In an uncanny sort of way, this girl seemed to know Master Snape's moods, recognize the best times to approach him and did everything he wanted to an almost mechanical perfection. It was almost ask if she knew the man intimately and Erica did it with such an air of childlike grace, with an eye open to the world that it was hard for anyone in the house to dislike her. Though she had come kicking and screaming into this household, it was not long into the winter when it dawned on the old matron that she could not imagine a house without the girl. Even then something wasn't quite right with her, call it a feminine intuition, though Maddie couldn't put her finger on it exactly.
"What is it child?" Maddie said in a lowered voice, adjusting the wood she had just chopped on her hip. She enjoyed doing things by hand from time to time, no need to always use magic. Chopping wood kept her moving through the winter and strong. It was her own personal escape from servitude. It must be said however, that Maddie was not at all naive of what the girl wanted so badly, and it was things like this that only reinforced her feeling that something was indeed out of place.
"Come over here, please! I need your help again." Erica's voice had a bit of laughter behind it and as Maddie made her way to the back of the shed, where the girl lay in wait, she was not surprised by what she found. A pair of sheers lay on the fence post and the girl had removed the handkerchief she typically wore over her hair while doing her chores.
The matron shook her head and placed the wood on the ground. There was no snow, just a damp mud floor on a sunny winter day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and Erica held a mischievous look in her eye. "Again?" Maddie started with mock surprise. She would never understand why the girl insisted on keeping her hair so short in such a near pixie type cut. It was quite obvious from the shining color and slight curl that had started, that the young lady would have a splendid mane of hair, if she would just let it grow. But the girl was stubborn and insisted on keep it as short as possible, and as hidden from the Master as possible.
There was work to be done and Maddie didn't want to stand out in the cold any longer than necessary. So it was with a shiver and a nod that the head of the household quickly cut the young lady's hair back to a shorter, tight almost elvin cut around her head. Somehow it suited her mischievous nature but still, Maddie couldn't' help but feel she was doing something wrong. So she did her best to finish as quickly as possible.
Hermione stifled a sigh of relief as she watched her rusty brown hair fall gently to the ground. It would have been silly to be caught after all this time simply due to the fact that she had let her hair grow too long. The way Snape had been looking at her recently had been a reminder that she needed to keep it cropped closely to her head. He had been suspicious from the moment he had her in his carriage that she was not the person she claimed to be on paper. One less identifying factor meant less ways for him to be make a decision. This was what it had become after all. A bit of a game where it was unclear whether he would find out her true identity or she would find the proper moment to have her revenge.
'Revenge.' she told herself and instantly she was taken back to her first night in the large manor house in the woods. She had cried a lot, so much in fact that she had had no more to give. It was then that her purpose for coming to this house had been made clear. Revenge, pure and sweet. It was nothing spiritual, nothing religious, just the will of the fates that had driven her into the heart of this dark world. She knew she could not have come all that way, knocked on both freedom's and death's door and been pulled away all for nothing. 'I will kill him.' she had told herself and the feeling the realization had given her was electric. She had never set out to kill a man before, but Hermione knew she the key to success was fitting into this house as best she could. It had not been easy, she had to go against her well honed survival instincts, but she was getting there.
The fact that Maddie was suspicious of her didn't phase her one bit. As Hermione had written nothing down and kept no records of her intent the old witch would have to be an exceptionally accomplished legitimens to penetrate her mind. The only person in this world she had met who would be able to break down her defenses was Severus Snape, for this she always maintained a coy demeanor, avoiding eye contact and doing her best to be as invisible as possible. This meant even in those few moments when he took the time to teach her. She quickly wiped the slowly growing smile off her face at the thought of these moments. They were the only times in the last years that made her feel normal again, that gave her the comfort of doing something she loved and excelled at. She, of course, had to blank out the fact that her self declared archenemy was teaching her, but it was the learning, the practice, the study that had given her the strength to move on. It was this odd interplay between her deepest darkest pains and her deepest darkest desires that both lit the spark of her personality and confused her beyond even her own comprehension. To despise a man so much that you would feel no remorse to kill him, and to be grateful to him for alleviating the pain and despair of your situation was a difficult feeling to maneuver.
Upon completion of her quick haircut, Hermione thanked the older lady, felt her head for good measure and wrapped her head back up in her handkerchief. She could tell by the height of the sun in the sky that she was late and old Snape didn't like her to be late when he had a lesson waiting for her. Pausing only a moment to help Maddie adjust the wood on her hip, she scurried off as fast as she could through the maze of passageways leading to the top floor where the dark, cold Master of the house waited for her.
The grandfather clock in Severus' office struck two and he twitched with irritation. The girl was rarely late, but when she was it angered him beyond comprehension. Severus hated having to wait for anybody, particularly his Chambermaid, who he was explicitly rewarding for her good behavior by teaching her potions. He tapped his finger impatiently on his desk. After 30 seconds passed and she had not come he snorted in continuing irritation and searched for the picture he kept in the breast pocket of his waistcoat. The feeling in the pit of his stomach never changed, no matter how many times he looked at it, he always had butterflies when he saw her flash that amazing smile. He had saved Hermione's graduation picture from the archives at Hogwarts before it had been burned to the ground. It was all he had left of her, a black and white photograph in which she cruely turned and smiled ravishingly as the Head Girl of Hogwarts as if to tease him that she still existed. As if to smile only for him. He had often wondered if she had ever thought about him positively in these final years of her studies, before the war broke out properly. They had grown close in their work for the Order at that time, but he had been too timid, too afraid of what had been growing inside him at the time to act on it. In hindsight he should have said something, should have professed his deepest, most taboo feelings for the girl. To hell with what others would have thought….'It all seems so trivial now.' he lamented.
It was only by chance that he noticed Erica standing in front of his desk, observing him with her very schooled stare. She was careful to not give away her true feelings and Severus could empathize with that. He was careful too. They had both been through traumas not of their own making. Over the time she had been in his house he felt a kind of connection to her that he did not share with the others in the house. His servants and workers had not been exposed to the large part of the war. The world order had simply shifted in their favor and few knew of the horrors and atrocities being committed beyond the walls of his small castle. This empathy did not, however, exclude her from his anger for being late for this particular lesson.
"You could have at least announced your presence, tardi or not." He said narrowing his eyes and studying the girl for her response.
Hermione simply bowed her head and closed her eyes, as a way to say she was sorry. She knew nothing she said would be right, so what was the point of drawing him in further? What interested her more was the picture he had held in his hand, then quickly stuffed into his pocket again as he addressed her. It was not the first time she had caught him staring at it, and she wondered if it was the mythical 'Her' he had spoken of to Maddie when she first came to the house. She was wildly curious as to who could have snagged old Snape's affections, he was a difficult man at best - but could probably be charming if he tried. He was well read and highly intelligent, even she had caught onto that all those years ago, when times had been different. She noticed the potions setup when she walked into his office and had been instantly sent back to her adolescence. The vivid memories of Harry and Ron poking each other under their desks. The jokes they had made about Snape while she had tried so hard to soak up every bit of the knowledge he had attempted to impart on them as a class. 'It all seems so trivial now.' she sighed to herself.
Severus eyed her a moment before waving her toward the small potions lab he had set up in his office. It had taken some time, but she was finally getting up to a healthy weight. As her face filled out and her body rounded he couldn't help but feel haunted by the presumed ghost of Hermione. Perhaps her nose was a little off, and it was hard to really put her features into the context of pixie cut, but it was something in her eyes and her voice that penetrated him. At times it made him lash out at her and at times, like now, it softened his anger. 'You're getting older and softer. Don't forget your ultimate goal...attachment is useless.'
Hermione took her desk and studied the ingredients laid out in front of her. She suppressed a grin, as she knew what the potion would be even before he started lecturing.
"Today we will brew a simple health potion. I assume you have done something similar in your studies before they were halted." He raised his eyebrow and looked down on the girl. Her eyes turned to his, the golden flecks were mesmerizing.
"I did some potions at my school yes, but I was never any good Master." She hated ending her sentences with that word, but knew it was necessary. She had seen him handle other servants for such infractions and would prefer to waste his goodwill on other things.
Severus snorted at her answer. Either she was extremely humble or covering something up. Regardless of her grades in school, which were average at best according to her records, Erica was anything but average in intelligence. Whether she intended to cover it up or not, she always excelled in everything he taught her. It was as if she had done all the things before, or was way ahead of her year. He could never be sure exactly which one, but he would keep an eye on her today. She was smart enough to fit into his plans, at least that was firmly established. He would need her to think for herself, take matters into her own hands. 'But how to test this?'
As he broke into his classic lecture on the potion, its history and properties Hermione could feel the darkness rising inside of her. As she sat at her pre-prepared station with all the tools she would need to make this healing potion, she couldn't help but wonder if the knife on her table was long and hard enough to pierce his heart. Would she be able to throw the boiling contents of her caldron on him and have enough time to bury the knife deep into her mark? She had been learning his routines, had such an intimate knowledge of what he did and where he spent his time - it was only a matter now of finding the right time and the most efficient method. Her time was almost certainly running out. Everyday as she grew stronger, and she started to look more like herself was a day closer to him figuring out her true identity. If she didn't act soon, her element of surprise would be lost.
It didn't take years of experience teaching school to know that she wasn't listening to a word he said. The girl was lost in some kind of thoughts, as she often was, and he was almost certain she would not understand how to even begin with this potion. It was not difficult in and of itself, however you needed to know how to begin in order to brew the potion properly. He nodded to her to begin and was shocked to see her, almost mechanically, pick up the knife provided and start to cut the first ingredient. No book, no reference materials….and she had not been listening to him. He narrowed his eyes but did not say anything, this was a typical Miss Simmons moment. No matter how poor her grades may have been in any subject he taught her in, no matter how much he thought she wasn't listening, she had this way of doing everything to a practiced perfection. As if she had done or learned the subject before, but wanted to hide it or cover it up somehow.
Of course his instincts told him to be weary of this, reminded him that something with this girl and her identification papers didn't add up. For as much as this told him to keep her at arm's length, it also drew him to her. The curiosity of who she was, what had happened to her and why she reminded him of Hermione kept him fixated. He subconsciously touched his vest where his inner breast pocket was, loosing her with very little hope of finding out anything was slowly taking its toll on him. His memories of her and this picture were all that he truly had left of her, even those were slowly fading and fraying at the edges. This girl, this mystery of a witch that had fallen into his life, would surely be the vessel through which he would finish Hermione's work. This strange enigma of a creature would embody the completion of something Hermione, the woman he had so respected and desired, had started - if only he gave her a little more time. Erica was smart, that much was certain. She would need to think on her feet and make the right choices if this was going to work.
Hermione was beginning to buckle under his burning gaze. True he had been looking at her more intently in recent weeks, but today she could not say what was on his mind. She tried to focus on her chopping, turning up the fire in order to bring the contents of the cauldron to a boil. She could brew this potion in her sleep, but did her best to take pause, write notes and ask the occasional question to her ex-professor when she felt it made sense. She was channeling a bit of Ron and Harry in this way, remembering where they struggled with the potion and what they might have asked. She wiped a tear from her eye at this memory of her friends and hoped that old Snape had not seen it. Though his gaze was more penetrating than ever, she couldn't be sure what he was focused on. What she was sure of, was that it was getting warm in there. The fire placed popped and crackled behind her, the cauldron was beginning to boil and her uniform were colluding against her, making her perspire. She removed the handkerchief she wore around her head and began to slowly dab her forehead, hoping in vain that it would relieve some of the stress. Hermione was confident that her new haircut would not give her away, nevertheless she glanced over at her Dark Master. Expressionless he walked closer to where she was, observing her every move.
To say she wasn't nervous would be a lie, but Hermione had to continue on as if she wasn't concerned by his stare, by the closeness of his body to hers. With no idea as to what shifted his mood, she had to remain focused on the task at hand. She rolled up the sleeves of her maid's uniform hoping that would give her some relief, but that hope would be short lived. Like lightning he seized her right wrist, pulling it closer to him and to the light. She let out a squeal and instinctively grabbed his arm, kicking to pull free.
"Where did you get this?" Severus' voice was low and deep, a dark growl forged in anger and confusion. His eyes flickered to a distinctive scar on her wrist, one that could only be made from the sap of a Gormong root. The sap was corrosive and burned if it came in contact with the skin, leaving a distinctive wave pattern. It was extremely painful and took time to dissolve. Hermione had one of these scars as well, and almost exactly in that spot if he wasn't mistaken. How could he be? He remembered it as if it were yesterday if not for the plain and simple fact that it had been the first time he'd touched her skin. The first time he'd looked into her eyes and comforted her. This moment was etched so deep into his mind that he couldn't help but be overwhelmed with emotion seeing that Miss Simmons also had a scar like this.
Hermione was in panic mode. It had been in her 4th year when she burned herself in his class. She had been 15 years old and had never felt something so excruciating in her life. He had calmed her, taken her to the hospital wing of Hogwarts...he had been so gentle with her. Now he was going to use that scar to identify her if she didn't think of something quick.
Her hesitation only angered him further, "Tell me where you got this girl!"
"I was tortured!" she screamed, it was the only thing that came to her mind. Some tears rolled down her cheeks as she screamed the words again. If he found her out now she would be dead, no vengeance, no justice, her life for nothing. "I have scars all over my body." She knew it might heighten his suspicious about her former or present allegiances, but she needed to say something. 'Shit!'
It was with that, that she used her left hand to pull her uniform neck over her shoulder, revealing only some of the scars and pains she had accumulated over her last years on the streets. His grip was like a vice, but to make a peep would be to tip this very tedious balance of emotion against her. She hoped against hope that he would believe her lie, that he would calm down, forget this had all happened. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting his face to be the last thing she saw before he killed her.
The girl had exposed her shoulder and part of her chest to him, exposing an intricate display of scars stemming from the use of different curses and physical torture methods. It was clear she had endured much, he didn't need to see more of her to know that. He loosened his grip on her arm and looked up at the clock. It was nearly 6:30pm.
"That's enough for today." He murmured. "Go draw me a bath and wait. I'll be up shortly." She scuttled out of the room saying something that might have been akin to 'Yes, Master' but he couldn't really be sure. Once he heard the door click he put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. 'What are you doing old man? Now you are seeing her in every little scar and every little glance? She has a thousand scars on her body and all you can see is Hermione.'
"You're dead!" He exclaimed and threw some glass vials into the fire. "You're dead because of me."
Hermione was almost out of breath and crying uncontrollably as she filled Snape's bathtub with warm water and soap. She had almost been caught, he was only moments away from identifying her and then he let her go. She placed her hand over her left side and felt the knife she had stolen from the potions setup there, a reminder that she needed to fulfil her pledge. It would have to be sooner rather than later. While he's sleeping perhaps? She didn't have time to think about it, she had to pull herself together. She turned to the full length mirror in the bathroom, which housed a bathtub large enough for three and looked at her face. She wiped the tears from her eyes and quickly practiced an emotionless expression. It was imperative to act as if nothing had happened, as if it was usual and ok. Hermione needed him to be confident that everything was normal, so that she could strike.
There wasn't much time for her to clean herself up, she could hear the creaking of the bedroom doors announcing his entry into the room. She quickly moved from the bathroom into the bedroom, her hands crossed in front of her ready to receive him. Severus walked past her toward the bathroom as if she wasn't there. She made a move to leave the bedroom all together, then he stopped and lingered in the doorway of the bathroom. "Help me." He said simply, almost too low to hear what he said. It was dark in the bedroom and the weak candle light stemming from the bathroom silhouetted his tall frame in the doorway. His long hair fell to the side as he turned his head toward his shoulder, to see if she was coming.
She was shocked, he was breaking with routine. Professor Snape had always approached these situations in the same victorian way he did his robes shopping, by giving both himself and her a sense of modesty. In the few months she had stayed in this house she had never once not seen him dressed, even then with long arms and long pants. If she understood his request correctly, then that meant…
Hermione moved to the bathroom, shutting the doors behind her. Doing her best to contain her nerves, she moved in front of the tall, dark haired man in front of her. Without looking in his eyes, as she often did, she lifted her hands to his waistcoat tentatively - as if to make sure she wasn't overstepping some silent boundary. Snape's silence spurred her to continue. Hermione carefully unlatched each of the many buttons on his waistcoat, moving then to the white collared shirt he wore underneath. She slowly undid those buttons as well, pulling the shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. His breathing changed then, from steady to slightly more labored. Hermione didn't dare look up, too nervous and too afraid a wrong move might set him off as it had done in his study. She moved around his body, facing his back and removed both his waistcoat and his shirt at the same time.
She allowed the garments to fall to the floor and what met her eyes in the dim light, was not at all what she expected. The gentle curve of his spine stood out against the muscles which held it in place. Professor Snape had always struck her as a skinny, lanky, bookish type - not one who used his body to work. The definition and ridges of muscle that covered his back rolled over his shoulder blades, turning and twisting into a neat 'V' shape at his lower back. Though it was the myriad of scars that truly held her interest. His body was not so much different from her own in this way, he had been beaten and tortured. His back alone told a hundred tales of pain and suffering, whippings, unforgivable curses…'He's suffered as much as I have…' she thought to herself.
Severus tried not to breathe too heavily as she stood behind him and inspected his back. He was not one to show his body, much less the horrors it had endured over the years. Yet he felt it the only true way to gain this girl's trust. These marks, these memories etched into this skin told her more about who he was and he ever could. When she moved her arms around his waist toward the front of his trousers to unbutton and remove them, he couldn't help but feel aroused as her soft fingers came between his skin and the fabric. The benign touch of a woman was something he had so longed for over the years, more specifically 'Her' touch. As the realization washed over him that this may never happen, he felt a pang of guilt for enjoying the gentle feel of Erica's hands on his body. Her hands drew his trousers and his underwear over his legs, awakening a desire he had ignored for a very long time. Severus smirked at her last attempt to give both of them some decency by waiting behind him until he moved toward the tub.
No matter where she looked she could see some part of his body and couldn't help but be drawn to it by both curiosity and desire. He had always been the master of putting her in the strangest situations as a student, making her both despise and admire him. This moment was no different. She was ashamed to acknowledge that she wanted to touch his body, feel his skin, explore it. Hermione was broken from her musings when she heard him say, "Come here. Remove your uniform and wash me."
Her eyes met his and she realized that this was the moment. If she could gain his trust, then she would be able to capitalize on this opportunity, give into the darkness that was consuming her and rid the world of him forever. She turned her back to him, playing on what little modesty he might assume she had. She adjusted the blade under her petticoat as she removed her maid's uniform. Inhaling she turned to face him in his porcelain stand alone tub, situated in the center of the candle lit room.
The light was dim in the bathroom as she walked toward him. Even then her thin white camisole didn't leave much to the imagination. She had put on a good amount of weight in the time she had been in his household and it showed in the curvature and perkiness of her breasts. Severus could feel his blood pressure rising in anticipation of her touch. She grabbed a small stool and sat behind him, gently running her fingers through his hair. Severus began to relax despite himself. Her fingertips were so gentle rubbing his head, pulling lightly on his scalp that it was almost inconceivable how he laid back in the warm water, closed his eyes and allowed her to do it. Her hands moved over his neck and down his chest, Severus exhaled deeply enjoying this rare bit of attention.
Hermione took a moment observe him. She could honestly say she'd never seen him so relaxed. His head tilted back, the water to his chest, her hands shamelessly memorizing the muscles of his chest and back. He was so beautiful in this moment that she almost thought twice about her dark plans. 'No.' she reminded herself, 'You made a promise.' It would be a peaceful way to leave this earth, relaxed, massaged...taken care of.
"Would you mind to put a little more pressure on my…" it was only by chance that he opened his eyes in this moment. The light in the room was enough for him to see the glint of the blade as it made its way toward his chest. She was fast, but he was stronger catching her hand quickly and with enough force to knock the blade across the room and pull her over his shoulder and into the tub with him. Severus held her hand that had possessed the blade outstretched toward her one o'clock, her second hand he had grabbed and pulled behind his own back.
Hermione was stretched out across his naked body, too shocked and scared to move. It was unnerving how calm he was, she had just attempted to murder him in his bathtub and she swore his blood pressure had not increased over its resting rate. She could feel the warm trickle of blood stream down her outstretched arm. Seems her aim had not been all for not, she had caught him just a bit on the hand. It didn't seem to phase her ex-Potions Master as he nuzzled her neck, taking in her scent. Severus' lips made their way up her clavicle and toward her jaw. She quivered more for arousal than fear. He drew breath from her jugular to her ear before finally pulling his face away in order to speak. "The next time you make an attempt on my life, you had better be successful. Otherwise I will feed you to my hunting dogs. Is that understood?"
His voice was a whisper, but he didn't have to raise it to get his point across. "Why don't you just kill me now?" Hermione asked, staring him in the eye, frozen by fear and bursting with curiosity.
A smile crossed Severus' face and he leaned back to take stock of the, vibrant, short haired, skinny girl in front of him. His blood and stained her now see through camisole, she was wet and scared - yet bold enough to question him even when he had the upper hand. It was erotic and even if that idea had not popped into his head so blatantly, the bottom half of his body would have surely pointed him in that direction. He was almost fully aroused. He pulled her closer so she could feel his manhood against her thighs.
Then he answered, "Because 'She' wouldn't approve."
Of all the cryptic answers he could have given her, this was not at all what she had expected. Though her brain made the connections quickly, "The woman in the photo. Who is she? Perhaps I know her." Snape still have a vice grip on both her hands, and the more he pulled her to him the more she was certain of his inescapable manhood.
"Tread lightly Miss Simmons, you've botched enough for one night."
Then it hit her, "Was she on the side of the Order? Perhaps I know her or know of her. " Hermione was wild to know who this mystery woman was and how she had captured Snape's heart.
The flicker in his eyes was all she needed to know she was right. "She is dead. Aside from that we have set off a chain of events from which even I am not prepared to go back from." He stared at her for a moment, releasing her arms before he continued, "Be in my study early tomorrow morning, 5am. Maddie will bring you the proper robes. Don't be late this time." His tongue danced along the final word. "Leave me."
Befuddled Hermione pulled herself out of the tub, wet undergarments and all. She dragged the weight of her wet cloths slowly toward the exit. Severus grabbed a towel and applied pressure to his hand. The cut was not bad, but it had been a sharp knife and he would need to stop the bleeding.
He eased back and repeated to himself, "Step 1, find somebody who can both adore and despise you. Step 2, show them killing you isn't the best way to fuck you over. Give them a context on which to launch their coup."
Miss Simmons had passed the first phase and not a moment too soon. There was a darkness on the horizon, the likes of which he had not seen in awhile. Things were changing in the Death Eater world and if he wanted his plan to work, if he wanted to uphold his promise to Hermione's memory, he would need to act soon, and what more - he would have to understand the depths of the darkness within them both.
