Disclaimer: I'm not, and never would claim to be J.K. Rowling. She is the queen, and I am but a pawn – now let's play some chess, shall we?
Rating is for language, violence, and my penchant for possible naughtiness. If it does head down that path, I will change the rating accordingly.
Reviews: I love each and every one of them – it keeps me at this fic. I apologize for not responding to every one – time is not my friend.
A/N: Yes, I realize I suck immensely at the delay in chapters. My life is…insane, if one word could be used to describe the current chaos. Chapter 11 is about half way done, and as long as life doesn't throw me another curve ball, I'm sticking with this fic.
Chapter Ten
After Snape had left her alone in the kitchen, she finished her quick yet thorough inventory of the contents of both the pantry and refrigerator. Unfortunately, she could not recall exactly what the tall, pale professor enjoyed most from the meals served in the Great Hall; she had either been too busy in her own life to care, or smart enough to know to stare openly at him would bring ridicule, if not at that exact moment, later on in his classroom in front of her peers and the despised House of Slytherin.
Hermione finally decided on a traditional meal of Beef Wellington paired with a simple horseradish sauce and braised parsnips. Aside from the fact that she had never seen any of her classmates turn down the dish in all her years at Hogwarts, the meal was quite filling. Though Snape had a commanding, fearful presence, he was fairly thin. If he had been Harry or Ron, she would have worried over him, prodding him to eat, loading up his plate for him and making sure he finished every last bite before allowing him to leave the table.
The thought made her laugh aloud, the sound boisterous and out of place in the empty, stark kitchen. If she went any where near him with such intent, he would probably hex her hair on fire or something equally unpleasant.
Malfoy appeared in the kitchen doorway just as she finishing up the horseradish sauce. For several minutes, he just stood in the entrance, watching her silently. Though Hermione mostly ignored him, she grimaced over her work, knowing his curiosity was probably due to the fact he hadn't seen anyone cook aside from the house elves at Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor.
Snape showed up several moments later, stalking down the hall from where Hermione knew his mysterious lab had to be. The kitchen seemed to shrink with his presence as he sat down wordlessly next to Malfoy at the small kitchen dinette.
Dinner was eaten in near absolute silence. Malfoy seemed to relish the meal, at first coming across teasing, then astounded that what she had prepared was not only edible, but better than anything he had consumed for the past several months he had been in hiding. For the last half of the meal, he was too busy devouring slices of the pastry encrusted tenderloin and braised vegetables to even look up from his plate.
Snape was more reserved than the platinum blonde, his slender fingers using the dulled metal flatware to cut the Beef Wellington into delicate bites. He said nothing, save one word acknowledgements as Hermione offered him more parsnips and to refill his glass of merlot.
At one point, he had sneered at her, one of his black eyebrows arching. Realizing she had been staring at him, her face flushed with heat. She looked back down at her food, just noticing she was only half finished while both men were nearly done with dinner. Her thirst for appreciation, for some sort of recognition that she had done a good job by him had caused her to nearly forget to eat entirely.
Snape stood abruptly, his palms flat on the table on either side of his cleared plate. She looked up at him, waiting mutely, the silence punctured by the continued scraping of a fork on Malfoy's quickly emptying plate.
"This was….satisfactory, Miss Granger," Snape spoke softly, the slightest edge to his silky voice. He raised his wine glass and drank down the remaining scarlet liquid. Pausing only to return the empty flute to the table, he pushed back his chair and walked out of the kitchen.
Lips parted slightly with surprise, Hermione stared at the vacant doorway of Snape's retreat. Satisfactory? That was extremely high praise from the professor, but…
Malfoy's snort brought her attention back around.
"Don't listen to him," Malfoy said between bites of food, crumbs falling from the sides of his mouth. "This is probably the best bloody meal he's had since Potty chased him from the castle. Hell, when did you learn to cook, Granger? Was this part of the whole S.P.E.W. nonsense?"
Hermione glared at him, a sharp retort caught on her tongue, but Malfoy missed it, his concentration once again on his plate. He didn't even look up as she pushed back her chair, sprinting out of the kitchen to follow Snape.
He was a fair way down the darkened hallway, obviously retreating to his lab. She grabbed his upper arm, her fingers tightening around his black silk covered bicep. He came to an abrupt halt, his tall form stiffening as he whipped around to face her.
"Unhand me, Miss Granger," he hissed, glaring down at the young woman in front of him. Her face was nearly ghostly in the heavy shadows of the narrow hallway, her eyes appearing black, yet luminous with the scarcity of light. Determined, as always.
"You promised."
"Promised?"
"A lesson. Wandless magic. My research…"
"Remove your hand from my person. I will not ask you again," he warned her, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes widened slightly as she realized she still had a firm grip on his arm. She jerked back instantly, the movement nearly causing her to fumble into the wall behind her. Embarrassed, she righted herself to stand tall in front of him, her hands clenched tightly into fists by her sides.
"You promised. If I made dinner tonight, if you enjoyed it, you would teach me. You would show me," she said, her voice losing its waiver and becoming increasingly confident as she continued to speak. "Satisfactory? You finished your plate, had seconds, sir. I upheld my part of the bargain, now you need to uphold yours."
She could barely make out his pale face, the fluorescents from the kitchen and firelight from the living room just a faint brush against them in the dim hallway. His silence seemed absolute, and for several minutes all she could hear was the beating of her heart, rhythmic and loud against her ribs.
"Do you believe me forgetful, Miss Granger?" he asked softly.
"No, of course not."
"Do you believe me to be a wizard to not uphold his word?"
She hesitated for only a breath. "I believe…I believe you would uphold your word, sir, if not in a position that you would breach your activities as a spy by doing so."
He made a sound low in his throat. "Then the only problem we have is your impatience."
Her lips parted in surprise and she stared up at him. "I don't understand."
Snape laughed, the sound lacking humor and barreling towards malice. "I promised you tomorrow, you silly little girl. Do you not think I have other pressing matters? Other then helping out an incompetent Gryffindor find her magic 'touch'?"
Her face burned, and without giving thought to the consequences, she jabbed her index finger into the black silk covering the middle of his chest.
"This isn't some childish game, you said so yourself. My nose bleeds, dear Merlin, there was even blood in my mouth this morning. I've been looking in your books, the ones that I can open, and I can hardly find anything at all on wandless magic. It doesn't make sense…"
Her next words were lost, swallowed down in surprise and fear as his hand curled tightly around hers, crushing her fingers together. He pulled the offending hand above her head, pushing her hard against the wall behind her, his free hand coiled harshly around her other arm.
"Don't ever point at me again," he snarled, his black eyes flashing dangerously as he glared down at her. His lips pulled into a thin line as he bit back panic. Severus still did not know the extent of her new found power. She had no sense of control, and so far he had determined that her magic was fueled by emotion. Most wandless magic found its path through the witch's hand, perhaps the most familiar path due to prior magic being performed while holding a wand. Far fetched as it might be, he didn't want to take a chance with her accidentally blowing a hole through his chest.
"I…I'm sorry," she whispered, her breathing coming out fast and shallow. Hermione pulled against the grip around her hand above her head, but Snape's fingers only tightened further. "I didn't mean…"
"Of course you didn't. Insufferable little know it all, don't you understand I know more about this than you? I will grant you your intelligence, but you know nothing of this power." He closed his eyes, reining in his emotions. When he glanced down at her again, he felt the tension unfurling in his chest.
"You are dangerous, not just to the boy, not just to me, but to yourself. You have no control, not even a sense of it. I will do what I can to teach you, to instruct you how to restrain the power if nothing else, not just to save you but to keep you from killing everything around you." Severus paused, exhaling steadily. His breath was strong with the merlot he had consumed with dinner and she closed her eyes against the teasing, heady scent. Finally understanding, realizing that he actually feared her was almost too much, and she leaned heavily against the wall at her back.
"There are other things, though, Miss Granger. More dangerous, more pressing, to all of us, the magical community as a whole. Things that, if not done in time, will make all of this a laughable memory."
The dark wizard's name was left unsaid. She knew of whom he spoke, though what it had to do with the lab, she was still trying to understand. Her research that afternoon had been mostly in regards to wandless magic, but there had been something that had weighed on the furthest edges of her consciousness, a brief glimpse of a plan so nefarious she could not let it go unspoken.
"The light bulb is a Muggle invention. It can be found in nearly every Muggle home and institution, usually in mass," Hermione said softly, staring up at him as she kept her voice even.
His eyes widened the smallest fraction, but she could see the reaction, even in the darkness of the narrow hallway. Her lips parted again to speak but his grip loosened from her upper arm, his slender fingers pressing now against her mouth.
"No, say nothing more," he whispered, a strained edge bleeding into his tone. His jaw tight, he stared down at her with his shadowed black eyes. "To go down this path means certain death."
She blinked, understanding his words but not willing to let it go. She was right, but there was so much more, so much she needed to know…
"No, Miss Granger. I will not hesitate to Obliviate you, even though in your current magical state, the consequences, unknown at best, could be disastrous for you."
She turned her face away from him, staring back down the hall towards the living room, the light catching more of her pale features. He let his hand drift with her movement, his fingertips now on the soft flesh of her cheek instead of covering her mouth. He could see in the faint light the wet sheen of her eyes and that she was now biting her lower lip, perhaps in a mixed attempt to stop from speaking further or to hold back her tears.
He sighed, the sound beaten and world weary. If only she had been born with some pure blood, a magical grandparent at the least to save her from the stigma of being a Muggle-born in the shadow of the worst magical war in the history of time. If she had not fallen in with Potter, had not been born with such intellect, such ferocious spirit, if she had not been his brightest, secretly most favored pupil…
Perhaps then he could have saved her. Perhaps then it would not matter, these thoughts, these feeling he could not banish from his traitorous mind.
Severus stared down at her, his black gaze slowly, yet thoroughly taking her in. She was still wearing the sleeveless, plain cotton floor length dress, the stark whiteness of the fabric nearly glowing amongst the shadows. Her feet were still bare, insignificant really, but striking him as odd as her sturdy black leather school shoes were undamaged from battle and sitting next to the antique wardrobe in her room. Not to mention the cold that clung stubbornly to the old farmhouse, the Scottish winter approaching full force had to affect her, as it did him and the boy.
The curly mess of her hair had been pulled back into a loose plait while she had made dinner, but it was now again seeking freedom, wild strands of it springing free around her pale face.
Without thought, his fingertips traced a lazy pattern on her soft skin, across her cheek down to her jaw.
Her eyelids fluttered closed and she arched slightly into his touch, a sound so similar to a moan escaping her parted lips. He stiffened momentarily at the response, and then his fingers dared further, sliding under her jaw to caress the white arch of her neck. His other hand tightened around hers, still held above her head against the wall at her back.
He leaned in nearer to her, angled so his mouth was a breath away from the warm, inviting curve of her throat. This close, he could smell the rose soap she had used in the morning, though the fragrance had dulled somewhat. It was now combined with the mixture of faint sweat from her exertion in the kitchen and an underlying, feminine scent that was all her.
It was this scent that taunted him, made him lose focus on the war, the mission, his responsibilities, everything except for the woman he held tightly in front of him. Something held secret deep within him responded to her, something feral and without regard to rules and boundaries. In this single moment, he wanted nothing more in the world but her.
His eyes closed as he suddenly felt her free hand on the black silk covering his chest. She made no move to push him away, and he realized with faint shock she was touching him willingly.
Severus exhaled against the curve of her throat and felt her shiver. Her touch and response wrenched at him in a way nothing else could have; he had been perilously close to throwing everything to the wind and claiming what he desired. She had pulled him back from that edge.
"Miss Granger," he whispered, his voice nearly inaudible but still holding a trace of his trademark silkiness.
"Y..yes?" She sounded breathy, unsure and frightened. His jaw tightened.
"I feel it important to remind you that I am a dangerous wizard. While I have promised not to hurt you, I ask that you not chase me down any more dark hallways."
Her breathing was still coming too fast, but she tried her best to even it out. His request would have been laughable outside of the situation, but she felt more than heard the serious undercurrent.
Hermione's eyes were closed and she was still leaning heavily against the wall at her back. Her free hand was against Snape's chest, more to steady herself than anything. The hand curled into his fist above her head had since gone numb. She just now noticed it, her thoughts seeming to come together out of a giant fog. Her head was spinning, her stomach seemed to be dancing, and her thighs trembled. The professor surely would have felt this, save he stood chastely at an angle from her; the only touch aside from his hands supporting her was that of his warm breath coming out against her throat.
"Of course," she whispered in reply.
He drew his fingertips down her throat, stepping back from her once his fingers reached her clavicle. His free hand at his side, he was now at a distance to face her. He still held her hand, now between them instead of above her head in his fist. His slender fingers tugged at hers, gently kneading the numbed flesh.
"Tomorrow morning will be your first lesson," he stated softly. "There is nothing to prepare, so do not stay up late researching and taking notes. Sleep is more important; it will give you strength."
She blinked, and then nodded shakily. Her gaze shifted to their hands and her fingers twitched. He grimaced.
"Are you hurt?"
"No, no, I just…" she stopped, swallowing. What could she say? There was so much, and none of it made sense.
"Then I must go. I have work to do," he replied, a hint of an edge returning to his voice. He let go of her hand, his black gaze unwavering but unreadable as he stared down at her. "I'll bring up a vial of Dreamless Sleep in a while."
"Thank you."
He nodded tersely and then turned, stalking down the hallway until the shadows seemed to consume him and she was alone.
She lost track of how long she stood there, trying to pull herself together. She didn't understand this, none of it really, and that bothered her most of all. She was the brains, was she not? The brightest witch of her age? Is that not what they called her? But this was beyond her understanding.
Hermione had been kidnapped, had spent the last several days alone with Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape of all people in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Lavender's death had awoken a power in her that had not been taught at Hogwarts, that was mentioned in precious few of the books Snape had in this "safe" house. In addition, she was becoming exceedingly close to both her captors. She actually felt pity for the platinum blonde tormentor of her youth, something scarily similar to friendship building between them. As for Snape, he had caused her to rethink everything. He was no longer her most hated professor, not just a Death Eater, spy, killer of Dumbledore…
She bit her lip, shaking her head. No. She had to stay focused. She was without a wand, but she was not without power. So there was a control aspect to this wandless magic; she would learn it. Hermione would absorb everything Snape was willing to teach her. And if needed, she would use it against him.
She pushed off from the wall, walking back towards the living room and kitchen. The large fireplace kept the living room warmer than the rest of the house and she smiled faintly with the welcome rush of heat as she entered the room.
Malfoy looked up, giving her a half grin. He was sitting on one of the overstuffed blue couches, curled up in the corner closest to the fireplace, his legs crossed, and his heels resting on the low wooden coffee table. A large sketchpad was in his lap, different sizes and colors of charcoal pencils and black charcoal stubs lined out on a folded paper towel on the couch cushion next to him.
She nodded at him in silent acknowledgement, walking over to one wall of books to skim the titles.
"I was wondering where you went, Granger."
"I had something to discuss with Professor Snape."
Malfoy made a noise in the back of his throat. "How's that working out for you?"
She waived her hand back at him almost as if shooing away a fly, not bothering to look up from her assessment of the books.
"That great, hey? You know, I do know a few things myself. If you want to run a question or two by me, I'm happy to assist you with my cerebral talents."
Hermione snorted, this time looking over her shoulder to give him her most incredulous looks. He smirked and she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the stacks of books, pulling out a few leather bound tomes as she continued her search.
"Granger, explain to me the Saslaw Kepler Theorem."
"It's a mixture of Arithmancy and the Muggle study of thermodynamics," she said on a sigh, not bothering to glance up again from her book search. "In its simplest form, it is in regards to a single magical thought, or particle, in orbit around a heavier one."
Hermione's voice was distant even as she recited the theorem to Malfoy from memory. She still had her back to him, tugging another heavy book out from the stack closest to the armchair in the corner of the room.
"To outline the theorem, you need to figure the kinetic energy in relation to the gravitational and centrifugal forces…" she trailed off, finally turning to face Malfoy. The Saslaw Kepler Theorem was high level Arithmancy. It wasn't even discussed at Hogwarts, and therefore even the name of the theorem was not common knowledge to those witches and wizards who were not practicing Arithmancers. Or know-it-alls like her.
"How do you…what does this have to do with anything, Malfoy?" she questioned, her full attention now on the platinum haired wizard.
He returned her hard look, a frown tugging at his pale lips. "To remind you I'm not an idiot, Granger."
She stood, her arms quivering slightly under the weight of the stack of books she was holding. "Okay. Point taken."
She walked over to the couches, taking the one opposite from Malfoy, setting the books down on the low table next to their unfinished chess game.
"What do you know about wandless magic?"
One of his blond eyebrows quirked up in surprise. "You mean, aside from a simple Accio or locking spell?"
"Yes. I mean high level magic, and real, complicated spells performed without a wand," Hermione replied evenly, grabbing the top book off the stack and settling back into the lumpy sofa.
His brow furrowed as he stared at her. "Well. Uh, I know Dumbledore could do some spells without a wand." His face colored slightly with saying the Headmaster's name aloud. "And the dark lord…but you mean truly without a wand?"
"No theory then, Malfoy?" She glanced up from her book. His fingers were curled around a piece of charcoal, but it was raised from the paper as he stared at her.
"Fine, Granger. No, I don't have a theory. Wandless magic isn't exactly taught at the old boarding school, is it?"
"You're right, for some reason it's not."
"Of course I'm right. And why do you care about this anyway? Thinking of storming out of here without a wand? It's not something you can just read up on and then regurgitate at will."
She frowned at him. He smirked back.
"So enough of this. Feel like continuing our game of chess? I was winning."
"Please, Malfoy. You wish. We both suck at chess and you know it. It will probably take us years to finish this one game."
He sighed and she hid her smile by looking back down at the book in her lap, 1074 Properties to Keep in Mind When Choosing a Wand. Hopefully the battered book had something that would help her.
They spent the evening in near silence save her page turning and scribbling on parchment and his sketching. She estimated it was near midnight when he yawned loudly, closing his sketchpad and gathering up his pencils and charcoal stubs. Snape still had not emerged from his lab.
"Sleep well," she said as he made his way to the stairs. He paused, turning to glance back at her with an indecipherable expression in his gray-blue eyes.
"Yeah. You too."
Hermione watched him ascend the stairs then returned her focus to the new book in her lap, jotting notes with the quill on the parchment scroll spread out on top of the closed book at her side.
It was going to be a long night. Regardless of what Snape said, she was not going into this unprepared.