VIII. Playing with Fire
By: Calliope Confetti
The next day, Severus rotated between sitting in the small room and pacing it, essentially held in quarantine with his neuroses. Lupin brought him breakfast and checked in with him periodically; upon reflection, Lupin seemed remorseful for his behavior the night before, and he tried to make it up to him by displaying a gentle kindness towards him that seemed just a tad overzealous. Severus understood that he was unsure how to even regard him in light of all he knew now, so he accepted it without comment.
Finally, late in the evening, Lupin opened the door a crack to let Severus know that he was ready to depart, and Severus climbed out the window to meet him, silently overjoyed to no longer be trapped with his only his thoughts for company.
"I have a son!" Lupin proclaimed proudly, laughing as he clapped Severus heartily on the back, causing him to startle. Severus managed a small smile, which seemed unconvincing with his drained appearance, the dark circles around his eyes forming a raccoon-like mask.
"Congratulations," he murmured, but Lupin hardly seemed to register his half-hearted tone as he blissfully replied, "Thank you!"
After walking a ways from the house, Lupin stopped and asked, "Are you ready, Severus?"
Severus nodded and handed Lupin a small piece of folded parchment, "Give this to her. I will wait outside, someplace where I will not be spotted," he instructed before taking Lupin's arm so they could utilize side-along apparition.
Just as Hermione had described in her letter, he found himself on a span of sandy beach near a lone cottage. "I will return in an hour or two," whispered Lupin, still smiling like he couldn't help it. Under cover of darkness, Severus sat in wait, listening to the jovial sounds that grew progressively louder and more boisterous with every uncorking that came from inside the house.
"Hermione," Lupin asked, motioning for her to join him in the kitchen, "Can I speak with you privately for a moment?"
"What is it Professor?" She asked, concerned. Lupin had told her that she could call him by his name, since he hadn't been her professor in years, but she'd never taken to it. Furtively, he slipped the parchment into her hand, before pouring himself another glass of wine, "I must say, I was surprised to learn that you're associating with him."
"Him?" She asked, suddenly panic-stricken.
"Severus. He seems to have an unhealthy amount of interest in you. Be careful, Hermione. You're playing with fire," Lupin warned.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione crossed her arms and turned to walk away.
"Really? Because I received a rather startling visit from him last night, and he seems to think otherwise," Lupin countered.
Hermione froze, mouth agape, and she returned to the kitchen to stand by Lupin's side; she hurriedly unfolded the parchment to read it, "He's here?!" She gasped, beaming.
Lupin regarded her with a sad smile, "Oh dear, I know that look."
"What look?" Hermione demanded, narrowing her eyes.
"Dora. When she fancied me, but I remained too ignorant to see it."
"We are friends," Hermione seethed.
"Friends," Lupin echoed wistfully.
After an awkward pause where they each refused to look the other in the eye, Lupin continued, "Hermione. I too find Severus's actions noble; with that said, he is a deeply troubled, tempestuous person, and it's not wise to enter into some sort of relationship with him. It could put you in grave danger. You are brilliant, and I trust your judgment, but I have no wish to see you get hurt, emotionally or otherwise."
"Thank you for your concern, Professor. Please, don't repeat a word of this to anyone," she pled as she shot a referential look at Harry and Ron, who were shooting she and Lupin curious glances in return.
"You have my word—unless you are in some sort of danger that necessitates my full disclosure," Lupin replied, smiling fondly at her before striding over to catch up with Harry and Ron.
Finally, Severus heard the occupants bidding farewell to their friend upon his departure, and once he heard the door swing shut, he stood up, his legs aching from sitting so long. Lupin approached him, "Okay, Severus, don't cross me. I believe you, but if you've lived a lie for this long, it must come quite naturally for you."
"Remus, I have put myself in dire straits by telling you all that I have," Severus reminded him. Listing slightly with the effect of the drink he'd imbibed that night, Lupin smiled.
Severus was ready with a retort when Lupin finally spoke, "Funny, Severus. I think that, in another life, we'd have been fast friends."
"How touching," Severus quipped.
Lupin's smile only broadened, "You've proven yourself braver than I thought. If anyone called you 'Snivellus' now, I'd surely hex them."
At the mention of his maligned moniker, Severus crossed his arms and regarded him coldly.
Lupin laughed, "I deserve that. Now, I'd best be getting home. I miss the little lad already. I gave her the message. Brilliant young witch—I've always admired her; do be kind to her."
"I have done," Severus replied quietly.
"Goodbye, Severus," Lupin outstretched his hand, and Severus stared at it for a long moment before returning the gesture and shaking it in kind.
Waving farewell, Lupin turned and walked a few paces, where he disapparated with a pop, leaving Severus alone with only his thoughts once again.
Severus walked along the beach as the waves climbed towards the moon that shone brightly in the sky, its light glinting on bits of sea glass in the dark. He walked until the cottage had been reduced to a small trinity of lights in the distance and sat upon a bit of driftwood, waiting for her to emerge from the house; he looked out over the sea and up to the stars which reflected in the roiling water to make one infinite cosmos of water and sky, the immensity of it threatening to swallow him up. He watched the lighted windows go out, one by one, until the house was completely dark and silent.
An hour later, he saw a bluish-white sphere of light bobbing up and down, floating like a will-o'-the-wisp in the dark, and he knew its source—it was wand-light. Severus froze and smoothed the front of his robes and straightened his collar, brushing the hair away from his face. He watched Hermione's figure in shadow as she approached him on the beach, and as the sphere of light from her wand illuminated him, he could see she was donned in her nightclothes. His lips formed into a small smile before he realized it.
Hermione's tentative footsteps grew swifter when she was able to positively identify him, and she ran right up to him and leapt up to hug him; for a moment, he held his arms up and tensed instinctually, before returning the embrace. Affectionate human touch felt foreign to him. He savored their closeness, closing his eyes to memorize the feeling of her body pressed against his. Hermione let go, while he lingered for a few seconds longer before he realized it and drew back, his mind screaming at him for more of whatever feeling had just sparked between them when their bodies touched.
"Severus?!" Hermione gasped. "What are you doing here?!" She looked up at him with wide, expressive eyes that were bright and welcoming, full of excitement—with only a hint of fear at being discovered.
"I've come here to dissuade you from going through with this plan that you keep telling me is destined for failure. Let me help you, Hermione," Severus pled, placing his hands on her shoulders.
Hermione tucked a tendril of hair behind her sun-kissed ear and looked away, "If you've come to talk me out of it, it's not going to work. I don't have a choice. This is the only way I can think of."
"And I know that you've likely given it endless thought, and I'm not saying that the conclusions of your brilliant mind aren't up to par, but sometimes hearing another's perspective is helpful. Your letter even said you wished you could consult me."
Hermione looked like she would burst if she didn't soon speak, but she remained silent, and he could see the debate raging behind her eyes. "Hermione," he squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, "Please, talk to me."
"It's dangerous for you to know this. You-Know-Who could punish you severely for knowing it," Hermione finally managed hoarsely.
"Must I remind you of my skills as an occlumens?" Snape whispered.
"Gah!" Hermione threw her hands up, "Promise me, Severus, that you will save your comments and criticisms for when I've completely finished speaking?"
Reluctantly, Severus nodded.
"Okay," she took a deep, uneven breath before beginning, "First, I suppose I should start out by telling you our goal in doing all this—we wish to break into Gringotts, because we believe that there's a Horcrux stowed away there, specifically in the vault of the Lestranges."
She saw the shock flash in his dark eyes, and she looked away before continuing, "I believe that's why she tortured me, Severus. She kept accusing me of having broken into her vault already to steal the sword of Gryffindor, an obvious falsity. She was acting out of her head about it, fixated on asking me that one question over and over in a hundred different ways. In so doing, I think she gave herself away. We are almost certain that the Dark Lord asked her to keep something there for him, under lock and key, and all the other fortifications and securities that Gringotts affords to only the wealthiest and longest lineages in wizarding history."
Severus spoke very carefully, and she could tell he was struggling to temper his instinctual reaction to the craziness she was now spouting. "So, how do you intend to accomplish this extraordinary feat?" He inquired quietly, enunciating every syllable, in the monotone voice that he used to suppress his sarcasm and strike fear in the hearts of his students. Even now, conditioning sent a chill down her spine at the practiced clinically calm voice of her schooldays.
"Um…" Hermione felt herself getting tripped up by his obvious displeasure and unease, "Well, we have a small vial of polyjuice potion at our disposal. So, I was going to… I-I was going to use a hair sample that I attained at the Manor to become Bellatrix in order to get into her vault."
"How do you know you've got it right this time and won't morph into Lucius Malfoy or something?" remarked Severus bitingly.
"It's a black hair," she countered, as if that somehow made it better.
"Rodolphus then!" Severus snapped.
She swallowed, hurrying to finish before he could interrupt again, "Also, we've got another advantage—an insider, a Goblin who has agreed to help us, so we've been planning in tandem with him, and so far, that's the best we've come up with. It's really an impossible undertaking any way you look at it," she finished sheepishly. She noticed Severus's fingertips pressing taut into her shoulders with a grip that betrayed his impassivity.
"Hermione," he began, squeezing her shoulders to punctuate his every point, and she could tell he was trying his best to be delicate and tactful in his rebuttal, "Do you remember me writing you after you'd been subjected to the Cruciatus curse?"
Hermione nodded slowly. "So, I'm sure then you remember the warning that I included regarding the after-effects of said curse? The mood swings, random sharp pain, paranoia, depression and general malaise? Well, there are also other rare, serious after-effects, chief among them delusions—that comes part and parcel with paranoia—and a rise in impulsivity," Severus explained as he stared, unblinking, into her eyes, regarding her strangely—with a sort of forced clinical detachment that made her feel like she was under a microscope.
Hermione cocked her head questioningly in response, and Severus seemed frustrated that he hadn't yet gotten through to her.
"Hermione," there was a gentle kindness in his upward inflection, "Do you think perhaps these side-effects are interfering with and upsetting your normally rational thinking?"
"Severus, please stop talking to me as if I'm a head-case. I can't handle that…not from you. I need you to be my counterweight again, please," she looked up at him through wide and pleading eyes, as she grasped his forearms, his hands still clutching her shoulders. "Of course, I've felt plenty out-of-sorts since it happened, but it's hard for me to separate or distinguish what part of that comes from my current circumstances as opposed to my experience with the Cruciatus," she admitted quietly, hanging her head in shame.
"I'm all too familiar with that sort of confusion, and it never gets any less disconcerting, feeling like your mind is not your own—when you think you're thinking and behaving rationally when you are not, you are simply unable to see it or realize it for yourself." Severus tilted her chin upward with his fingers, which revealed that she had been crying, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione, and since you've only suffered through it once, these effects will not be permanent." He tried to comfort her as tears seeped through her tightly closed eyes, droplets collecting in her lashes.
Severus urged her to sit with him on the sand and rest. He kept one hand on her shoulder, maintaining contact. Hermione laughed suddenly, sounding more like a hiccup, and he waited for her to explain why. "I'm so happy you're here," she said, her face a duplicitous mix of smile and sniffles.
Severus felt his stomach clench. "Likewise," he replied quieter still.
Hermione had so many questions prior to his arrival, yet now she could hardly think at all. "I'm surprised you returned my first letter," she managed.
"I couldn't resist answering a little fan mail," replied Severus sarcastically in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Hermione laughed through her sniffles, "Okay, Professor Lockhart."
Severus cast her a feigned glare before countering, "Ah, your old schoolgirl crush."
Hermione looked taken aback, "How on earth do you know about that?"
Severus grinned, "Professor Lothario was fond of reading his fan mail aloud at staff meetings. I'd recognize your know-it-all writing style anywhere. Even some of my colleagues wrote such drivel to him."
She laughed, and it seemed as if they existed in some far-away place without war, without death and destruction and sides.
"I hope your taste has improved since then." Severus remarked, only half-joking.
Emboldened by their current rapport, Hermione smiled, "I'd like to think so. I know he'd never read a love letter aloud to the staff room."
For a moment, Severus laughed in response—until he suddenly stopped and thought about what she'd just said—but he'd be in the staffroom? Hermione's gazed at the sand so strongly that he assumed she'd identified an individual grain of it, and his ribcage tightened painfully. A silence pervaded for an uncomfortably long time, but Severus couldn't even hear it over his racing thoughts.
Severus noticed Hermione shivering, so he edged closer to her on the sand until he could throw his arm around her shoulders and envelope her in his cloak—he hoped she couldn't tell that his arm was trembling.
"Thank you," she said, moving closer to him to bridge the gap, their bodies touching. She relished in the warmth his body offered under the cloak. Severus grasped her wrist and pulled up her sleeve to examine the word "mudblood" that had been carved into the flesh of her left forearm. He hadn't fully realized his rage until he saw the word that marred her pale skin. "I'll kill her myself," he whispered icily, and she felt the hand over her shoulder draw her closer.
Severus cleared his throat and returned to the topic at hand, "After I received you last letter, I was desperate and determined to get here before you embarked on this mad endeavor. I had to see you," he whispered as he stroked her shoulder blade.
"I can't back out," she squeaked, "we've already wasted so much valuable time. It's almost in motion." She wrung her hands nervously. As he held her, Severus's mind grappled desperately for ideas, for contingency plans, for anything he could do to help. Hermione seemed to intuit his thoughts when she said, "I can't let you get involved Severus. I made you a promise that I wouldn't intervene on your behalf, and I must ask you to make me the same promise, please." Her voice was muted and breathy.
"I'm disposable Hermione. You are not. There is nothing for me in this world once this war is over. It's too late for me, but you have a brilliant future ahead of you," Severus said quietly, looking down at her with a look that she couldn't place, but it was stark and honest, yet caring and careful.
"Do you always think of others above yourself?" Hermione asked him sadly.
She rested her head on his shoulder, and he admired her from that new angle, where he could smell the fresh scent of her hair, still wet and slick from the shower, and inhale the milky scent of her skin. "I can't make that promise," he murmured, lips grazing her hair. "Things are different now. We've already skirted the rules."
"Different how?" Hermione asked, with an air of expectation.
Severus stumbled over his words, pausing for a long moment in which he looked embarrassed before finally saying, "They just are!"
Smiling coyly at him, she nuzzled his shoulder almost imperceptibly, "Do you remember what you said when Harry said "he just knew" Malfoy was the perpetrator?" She looked up through her lashes slyly. Severus decided not to answer.
"I expected a better explanation from you, Severus," she teased, taking a chance and placing her hand lightly and playfully on his chest. "I'm afraid I must ask you to make that promise to me if you cannot present a more convincing explanation." She smiled, closing her eyes.
"Don't push your luck," warned Severus, although even with her eyes shut, she could hear the small smile in his voice.
"I'm serious," she giggled. "We are reasonable people Severus. We must act as such."
"There are certain things that are better left unsaid in the current uncertain climate," Severus murmured half-heartedly, his stomach clenching again.
"Talk about maddeningly elusive," Hermione teased, enjoying their bantering, chipping away at his avoidance strategy.
"We are different," he managed.
"Different, how?"
Severus struggled uncomfortably, "Fine, I'm different."
She tilted her head in a manner that echoed her earlier question.
"I cannot, in good conscience, make a promise that I do not believe I can keep. I know without question that if you were in danger, even if it betrayed my own cover, I would intervene on your behalf using any means necessary. I cannot promise you, Hermione. It has become my instinctual choice that cannot be reasoned away. I've come to care for you, and I cannot stand by and watch you suffer or be a silent observer to a plan that could and likely will endanger your life. I came here at great personal risk, and I would do it again in a heartbeat in similar and even lesser circumstances. I cannot go back to those initial rules, it's simply impossible. You ask what has changed? Well, everything."
Severus stared forward into the darkness, awaiting rejection or for her to recoil at his admission, but neither came, and when he finally gathered the courage to look down at her again, his heart skipped a few beats when he saw her smiling with a look of pure adoration that exceeded his modest expectations and his wildest dreams. Hermione's heart leapt and an electric feeling quickened her pulse and sent bizarrely pleasant aching pangs through her stomach, and she felt like she could breathe deeper than she ever had, which only intensified that bubbling champagne-like effect of new affection.
"May I ask you a question, Severus?" she asked, her voice unsure.
"Of course, I said I'd hold you to it, if you remember." Severus replied silkily.
Hermione smiled broadly, albeit a little sadly, "Yes, I remember."
"I'm not even sure how to ask this or if it's inappropriate or ill-timed or what have you. But… How do you see me, Severus?" She asked, her eyes guarded.
"How I see you?" He repeated, seeking clarification.
Hermione stared, laughing nervously, "Well, do you see me like a daughter or care for me as a friend? Or do you see me in another way?" She couldn't bring herself to ask him outright, her old world relationship rules seemingly forbade it.
For a time, he was silent, and she bit her bottom lip nervously, fearing she'd pressed him too far too soon. "Not like a daughter, no. Perhaps that is just remnant behavior from when I was your teacher. I've never thought of myself parentally in any context—mentor maybe, but it doesn't quite fit all. I care for you a great deal, as a friend, yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean or rule out that there isn't more too it. Because…to be truthful, there is much more to it than that. It's been a very long time since I've found myself…well, infatuated with someone, essentially. It's a minefield for me to navigate, but I find myself more attracted to you by the day."
"You dominate my thoughts, consume my concerns, and appear delightfully in my dreams. With all that said," he sighed deeply, "there's no way I can act on these crippling feelings without placing you in great danger, potential leverage for the Dark Lord to wield over me. I'm not so selfish; I want you desperately…but there's absolutely nothing I can do about it, if you even reciprocate, which I realize is doubtful," he finished with a hint of a question.
Hermione gaped at him. The growing wave of elation had hit a dizzying peak before crashing down on her without warning, crushing her spirit. "Severus," she whispered in pleading awe and pure shock. "I've found myself falling for you very early on," she admitted quietly. "I just didn't think that you'd ever think of me that way, no matter how much I wanted you to do so. I'm happy and I'm devastated and I have no fucking clue what to do with that information." Her voice grew more frantic as she spoke, stiff and hunched, burying her face in her hands to hide.
"I shouldn't have told you," he remarked as if to himself, with regret for hurting her with his expression of desire.
"No," she protested with a sob, "I'm glad you told me. It just hurts so badly to know that you return my affection but cannot act on it…so close but never further away."
Severus embraced her, holding her close to him, knowing but disregarding that he was flirting with danger, walking a fine but blurred line. He stroked her hair as she clutched at his robes and buried her face into his chest. He held fast to her in silence, with only the ambient sounds of the beach far-away in the background.
She slowly looked up into his searching eyes, and Severus caressed her face and wound his fingers in her hair, holding his face so close that they were almost nose to nose. She could feel the heat of his gaze as they drew closer and their lips met and they kissed with a smoldering intensity that left them aching for one another. Severus's hands wandered to Hermione's lower back to press her against him as they continued their fervent kiss until they were enveloped in the others embrace. Severus wanted her so badly, and she didn't break away, but this was dangerous…so dangerous. As he explored her body with eager hands, she straddled his lap and touched him in a way that left him breathless and sent the temptation spiking; a wave of panic hit him and addled him as the ensuing barrage of second thoughts battered against him.
It wasn't regret—it was fear and shame at his lack of restraint. Thoughts of love and affection and potentially mind-blowing sex were the hardest to hide from the Dark Lord, because of their all-consuming nature; he berated himself silently for giving in and putting her in such a volatile and potentially dangerous situation.
"I'm so sorry," Severus whispered, as he came to his senses and broke the kiss, leaving Hermione looking confused and dejected.
Hermione gave him a wounded, quizzical look, "For what?"
"If the Dark Lord would happen to perform legilimency on me and see this memory, which I will admittedly already have trouble keeping off my mind, he will use you to break me. I can't let anything happen to you for my own selfishness…"
Hermione steeled herself against his words, but he could see the tears welling silently in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, feeling ashamed of himself.
"I understand, Severus. It's just…not likely to matter after tomorrow anyway. I won't be alive to be used as leverage." She burst into quiet sobs, and Severus held her, "That's not going to happen, Hermione. You will succeed; you always succeed." He kissed her forehead—he couldn't help it.
"Not this time," she sniffled, "I have a bad feeling. I want to feel what it's like to be with you, Severus, because I don't think I'll have another chance." Her words gutted Severus, who stroked her hair and continued holding her close against him. "I want you, Hermione," he whispered, "but I can't put you in danger."
"I know, I don't wish to put your life in jeopardy either. I just…I just wish our circumstances were different."
"As do I," Severus said softly. At that moment, he paled as he felt the Dark Mark burn, knowing the Dark Lord had summoned him. Hermione saw him flex his fingers and instinctively touch his left forearm, and her heart sank with her realization.
Severus saw her furtively attempting to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand and put on a brave face. He gathered her into his embrace, where she curled up against him. "I don't want you to leave, Severus," she whispered sadly.
"And every fiber of my being is screaming for me to stay," he kissed the corner of her mouth softly, "but I have no choice in the matter."
"There's always a choice. But I understand," she sniffled.
"Living as a double-agent makes it feel as if no choice is truly my own." Severus replied flatly.
The sky had gone from pitch black to grey airbrushed with light pink and clouds, and Severus knew he had to depart. "I must go," he whispered, looking away from her gaze out of fear that he adored her so much at that point that one look from her and he would change his mind.
Hermione nodded sadly and reached up to touch his face, and in spite of what he'd said, he kissed her goodbye. They lingered lip-locked together until, this time, Hermione parted from him. She kissed him once more for good measure. "Until next time," she braved hopefully, and Severus flashed her a smile that seemed forced and didn't match the forlorn expression brooding in his black eyes.
