Chapter Four
Hermione watched as Snape left in a swish of black robes. She waited until she heard the thud of the door outer door closing before she reached down and grabbed her nightgown, shrugging it on as she padded across the floor. She put her ear to the door just to be sure, but there was no sound. The silence enveloped and welcomed her. This was her chance.
She had found the spell in one of his Dark magic books a week ago. It had taken three days to come to a decision, and now she had her chance. Scurrying into the living room, she ran a finger over the spines of the leather spines. His books alone were almost enough to convince her to stay, but that was impossible. More and more everyday Hermione Granger slipped away, replaced with a mere shadow of who she used to be.
Her life bordered on normal. She woke, she showered and breakfasted. He asked that she help him in the lab. He lent her his books to read and sometimes even discussed them with her. But it was the evenings that she dreaded. Cold fear, like an invisible hand slithering around her throat and choking the life out of her, descended every night after dinner, when he would take her by the hand and pull her close, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and lead her into the bedroom.
In another world, she might have relished the attention he bestowed on her, but here she had no choice, no option to say no. She couldn't even beg off a night, complaining of a headache or fatigue. Severus Snape was not a man you could say no to. But she would get him to say yes to her plan. In this, she would not fail. Her life was at stake.
Her finger rested on the book she wanted. Pulling it open, she flipped to the page she wanted. This spell was going to set her free. But the next page, the page with the warnings would convince Snape it wasn't worth the risk. She couldn't have that. Taking a deep breath, her hand hovered over the page. She made her decision, and with a loud rip, she tore it from its place.
She used the next few hours to get dressed, eat, and set the scene. When Snape came in, she stood at the bookshelf, flipping through the book.
"What are you doing?" he asked, throwing his cloak over the back of the sofa.
"Nothing." She put the book back on the shelf, and then turned and leaned back against the shelf, trying to look innocent.
"It doesn't look like nothing," he said. He swept closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity, and something else that she didn't like the look of. With one arm, he trapped her against the shelf, while with the other one he reached out and plucked the book from its resting place. Hermione had creased the page she wanted, and it opened to that page. A picture of a witch and a wizard graced the page. A bright light leapt from the witch's chest and flowed into the wizard.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"It was just an idea," she whispered. She looked away from his intent gaze. She couldn't let him see her thoughts.
"You would do this for me?" He placed two fingers under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his. "You would give me your magic?"
"You're a great man, Severus," she choked out. She forced herself to run a finger down his chest. "You deserve better than brewing Peppeup at the Dark Lord's whim. My power combined with yours will make you greater than…"
"You shouldn't say such things," he hissed, his fingers moving down from her chin to curl around her neck. Her breath caught in her throat. She knew he wouldn't hurt her unless she pushed him. The only time he had ever raised a hand to her was the one night she had tried to resist his attentions.
"Fine, I won't say it," she croaked. "But just think about it."
"And what about you? You'll be left no better than a Muggle." He released her and stepped back. Hermione rubbed at her throat.
"All I want is to go home. If I do this for you, you let me go home to my parents. You can tell everyone that you tired of me and killed me."
"And if I don't want to let you go?" he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her up against him.
"When you're the next…" He silenced her with his mouth. She stood perfectly still, waiting for him to finish. Voldemort had spies everywhere. Her words could put him in grave danger.
"It has to be freely given," she said when he freed her mouth. "I'll only do it on two conditions."
"So now it's two?" he said sarcastically. She clenched her fists, willing herself not to punch him. She had given him everything she had to give, was prepared to give even more, and he treated her with disdain. But then an image of her mother and father, laughing over dinner and talking about their day, their boring mundane day, and she focused on her goal.
"I want to go home. And," she paused, "I want you to Obliviate me."
A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update, but this is a difficult story to write despite knowing what's to come, (or perhaps because of what's to come.) Please leave a review because as my name suggests, I suffer from great vanity. Thanks for reading!