Terribly sorry about the cliffy ;) Promise I've got a few chapters coming up that will make it all better.
Chapter Fourteen: Six Impossible Things
Hermione slammed the portal behind her and knelt beside Severus with her wand in hand.
Stop the bleeding, bloody fucking hell, just stop the bleeding.
Between every spell, Hermione stitched together a prayer. After a few moments, his neck began to close, but only when she put her hand on his cheek. She held his head in her lap, watching the new skin fold over the wound, half-expecting it to rupture again. After lifting him up, she dug around in her pockets for a replenishment potion, anything to get his strength up again. She only had one left.
"Here, c'mon. You can do it. Easy…" she tilted the vial down his throat.
He writhed in agony, and Hermione was sure that the burning of the healing hurt worse than the cut itself.
"You're okay, you're gonna be okay. It's okay," she chanted, rubbing his forehead and smoothing the hair away from his face.
As she touched more of his skin, her own throat began to burn. It was a tingle at first, but it rose to an intense sting, making her cough uncontrollably. The burning sensation was like she had swallowed fire, and she felt it flare every time she breathed. She conjured water for them both and waited for the spells to do their job.
Ashes's noise had come to a halt, and he hopped over to hug himself under her earlobe. She put out a finger for him and softly pet his head. Hermione leaned back and waited for Snape to come around.
After a good twenty minutes, his eyes fluttered open and he let out a deep cough. She moved the goblet of water to his lips and watched him drink from it.
"What happened?" She asked, hoarsely.
"Werewolves," was his only reply.
"Remus did this to you?"
He nodded.
"How?"
He coughed. Every time he tried to speak, only wisps of sound came out.
"C'mon," she lifted his body off the ground, now stained with a pool of his blood.
She moved him into her bedroom, pulling off their soaked robes, casting the world's laziest Tergeo over them both, and shoving him into bed, stark naked. Hermione ignored the shocked look on his face and explained it away in her now-ruined voice,
"The more we touch, the faster this will go. So, scoot over."
She climbed into bed with him and spread her form along his warm body. She also decided to ignore any other reactions he was having at the moment. But, she could not ignore the fact that he had wrapped his arms around her and covered her up with the duvet.
They slept like this for an hour. Hermione set an alarm on her muggle watch, and when it went off, she tentatively tested her voice box.
"Erm, hmm, uhmm," she cleared her throat and hummed a bit. No pain.
"Severus," she prodded him, "Wake up."
His black eyes snapped open and looked into hers. He propped himself up on one arm and moved to sit up in the bed. She watched as he registered their state of undress once more. She pulled the blankets around her chest.
"So, tell me what happened."
He cleared his throat, testing the pain as well,
"It was my fault. I saw you with him, at the gate."
Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, trying to hold a headache at bay with the tips of her fingers.
He continued,
"I followed him, but LaBeaux was waiting for him too. They shifted before I could move. I don't think they even noticed me. But, Remus's back paw struck me squarely in the throat, and now I'm here."
"Yes, but why are you here? Don't you usually bleed to death in your own quarters?"
It was silent for a while until he spoke again,
"I wanted to see you, one last time. I didn't think you could save me. Those spells shouldn't have held against a werewolf injury."
"They didn't. But, this one did," she thumbed her scar, "I assume that you have no idea if Remus is alive or not."
"No," he didn't need to whisper any longer, but that was the only sound that came out.
"Well, I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"
"You're not going down there?" Severus asked.
"And what? Tell him that a little birdy told me that he was in trouble? How do I explain that? No, I'll send Ashes to Dumbledore. Let him clean up a mess for a change."
She grabbed him from his bedside bowl, tied a quick note to Ashes and gave him a treat,
"Quick as you can, my dear."
The bird was gone in a flash of orange and gold embers.
Hermione laid back down, still without the will to carry on this dance.
"Thank you for saving my life," he told her.
She sighed,
"You can stop thanking me. I've already got the scar. It's permanent. If you keep thanking me, we'll be here until Christmas - even though we probably won't be here until Christmas. We'll be dead."
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I hurt you and -"
"What is the bloody point, Severus?" She turned to face him in bed, "You're sorry, I'm sorry, we're all sorry. It doesn't matter, and I just don't care. I don't care about Harry, I don't care about Remus, I don't care about Albus or Voldemort or Poppy or anyone. I can't. I'm tired. I keep caring just like I keep bleeding. Eventually, you just run out. And right now, I'm out. Can't you see why? Or do you just not want to be bothered with it?"
"No," he shook his head.
"I don't want you to sit here and tell me how thankful you are or how sorry you are. That's not what I need from you. I gave myself to you - in more than one capacity - and I needed you to give back. I just needed you to see what I was doing and not try to cover it up with some sort of sorry excuse. And you know what else?" She paused and looked at him. He just sat there, staring at her neck, not moving an inch.
She continued,
"I don't care if you don't love me. It doesn't matter, because I can see it now. Remus pushed himself on me at the gate and I was physically drained! And this is a good-looking bloke, with a kind heart and never a nasty word to me. His thank you's are a work of art. But, still I was sick with guilt. I can't love him. I never will. So, don't sit there and feel sorry for me, because you shouldn't. But -" she pushed at the tears that had started to fall away from her eyes, "Don't give me your sorry's and your regrets. You wanted this to be just business? You got it."
He was more static than a statue. She flipped over to give him her back and dropped her voice in a mocking tone,
"Now, if we have no further business, I think you were just leaving. So, get out."
"No," he moved his gaze to stare right at her as she turned on him.
"Is that the only word you know?"
"No."
"Then what? What else could I possibly give you, Severus?"
"I love you."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Severus, you don't have to -" She sat up and meant to leave the bed behind, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, none too gently, and the look in his eye had turned rabid,
"I. Love. You."
Tears were coursing down her cheeks in salty ruts. She couldn't stop them, and she shuddered from the exhaustion. He went on,
"I love you, and I have been loving you...this entire time. I love you," he said it like a mantra, over and over in the near-inaudible darkness of his tone.
"Why?" Her own voice betrayed her, even through her sobs.
"You are the only one who could ever be my equal, or my better. You are stronger than me, you are brighter than me, you give more of yourself in a single night than I ever could in a lifetime, and you make me want to be a better man."
She looked down and watched as her hand outlined his thick jaw, and she whispered in return,
"There are no better men."
His face collapsed onto hers and he began to fiercely kiss her tears away. He pulled her close to him and held her as tightly as he could. In a soft whisper, he told her,
"You make me want to live again."
The next morning, Hermione had no idea what time it was. There was a storm outside dark enough to keep a shroud of grey light over the castle. The world seemed monotone and flat, as if it had been drained and dried like pressed petals in a book. The grounds were wet, and what had been green in the summer was now the hue of golden hay. She glanced over at Severus, sound asleep next to her, and it made her want to curl back up against him. Underneath that big, torn, tattooed arm, she could slip close to his chest, enveloped in that rough exterior shell. But, she put her feet on the cold floor and went to look for Ashes. If Dumbledore had found Remus, maybe he was able to get him back to the castle in one piece.
A tiny response was tied to Ashes' leg. She opened it,
Hermione,
Remus is alive. But, please let our friend know that LaBeaux has fled the castle.
Albus
Cryptic and dull all at the same time. She could guess who Dumbledore was referring to. Hermione tried not to harbor any resentment, but the Headmaster's constant chess game with Voldemort was really annoying, especially since she cared about some of the pieces on the board. She felt like a pawn sometimes, never particularly important, and always the first to get hurt. The go-between. But, as she stared at the broken knight in her bed, she thought that the pawns might have gotten off easy.
"Severus," she ran a hand through his black hair.
He stirred. Lifting himself off the bed, he swung his legs off the edge to touch the floor. He stood, all his height and broad shoulders looking as if a huge weight had been lifted off of him. Snape was pleased to find Hermione smiling up at him, and he knew that her love was the best thing that would ever happen to him in his short life.
He reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her into the air. She put her legs around him as he carried her to the sofa. He sat, landing her in his lap and began to kiss her.
"Severus," she managed between kisses.
She received only a groan for a reply.
"We got a letter," she said.
He pulled his face away from her,
"From whom?"
He sounded annoyed, maybe even a little offended that someone would interrupt their time together.
"Albus. He said that Remus is alive, but LaBeaux went off. Licking his wounds with the Dark Lord perhaps."
"Perhaps. I'll find out," he left her on the sofa.
Snape pulled on his slacks and laced up his thick boots. He tucked in his white shirt and buttoned it all the way to the neck, folding his coat collar just so. He charmed the buttons of his long cloak to fasten themselves, and tied his hair back with a worn leather strip. Nearly finished, he plucked at the sleeves of the jacket, one wrist at a time, straight as an arrow.
"While I'm gone, talk to the hound. See if he knows where LaBeaux ran off to. I'll go to Lucius. It's the first place I usually look for things that are...missing."
"Right," Hermione replied, ready for any other instructions.
"Don't forget," he smiled cheekily, "tomorrow night is the ball."
"Oh, no," she had forgotten.
"Oh, yes," he laughed at her, "I suppose you bought something to wear."
She nodded.
"What color?"
She looked at him suspiciously,
"Black. Nothing special."
He pocketed his wand and headed for the door. Just before he opened the portal, he reached in his coat pocket.
"Here," he handed her the crystal necklace, "you forgot this."
She smiled,
"Thanks."
He kissed her in earnest,
"See you soon."
He clicked the door closed behind him.
Outside the mansion, Severus straightened his robes and braced himself for Malfoy's chaotic demeanor. Lucius was the one who had brought him to the Dark Lord, and the entire community of Death Eaters and their supporters knew about their friendship. It was an alliance that had saved each of them more than once. Those who did not fear Snape feared Malfoy, and the other way around. Severus was almost a member of the family.
He was not empty handed. When he had left Hermione, he went to grab one of his oldest bottles of firewhiskey as a gift. If anything made Lucius happy, it was expensive booze. Snape wasn't even sure Lucius drank it, but his old friend had a soft spot for pretty, valuable things.
The guards let him through the gate and into the main parlour of the mansion. But, all he could think about was Hermione. It felt good to finally admit it out loud. I love her. Admitting it to oneself was good, but sharing those budding emotions was not something Severus was used to. He looked forward to seeing how the seed they had planted would grow in the coming days.
It was a few minutes before Lucius descended the tall, ebony staircase whose banisters were lined with intricate silver and whose runner was the darkest emerald green. The dark woods of Malfoy Manor, with its high ceilings and great paned windows, added to the shocking beauty of the space. But, unlike other parts of the house, this was no brooding dungeon. Fresh flowers sat nicely on his ornate tables, some mail was left on a nearby desk. It looked like a house, a very expensive house, but still a home.
Lucius himself was also quite imposing. Tall and slender, like his ornate banisters, Mr. Malfoy was always able to make an impression. But, he wasn't in robes this evening. He wore Muggle slacks and a white collared shirt. The casual outfit probably cost more than Dumbledore made in a month, but Snape knew Lucius's closet housed more extravagant articles than this. Lucius was...comfy.
"Severus! This is a surprise. When the guards told me who was at the gate, I thought something might be amiss," Lucius's tone was that of concern.
Snape shook his friend's hand warmly, the whiskey tucked in the crook of his left arm. He smiled slightly to dismiss the alarm,
"No, my friend, there is nothing amiss, at least not more than usual."
They shared a laugh.
"I've come seeking a wolf, and to deliver this bottle of firewhiskey to its rightful owner," Snape purred.
Lucius was distracted by the honey gold bottle,
"I know this mark. This is from Karkaroff's famous stores. How on earth did you get it? I thought they burned that traitor's castle to the ground."
"Who do you think does the burning?" Snape let out a sly grin, "Besides, I was owed a favor. But, I rarely have time for a glass these days, and a vintage like this deserves a good home. Draco should spend his Mark day knowing what a real whiskey is supposed to taste like."
"We'll open it at the party. This was quite thoughtful of you. Now, you must join me for dinner, and I won't take no for an answer, Severus. Let's go see if we can find your lost dog."
As they were seated in the grand dining hall, Lucius sent three owls and two of his house elves to look for LaBeaux.
"The Dark Lord can only tolerate so much failure. Honestly, does he think he can hide from his shame?" Lucius oozed.
"He will be brought to heel. You and I will make sure of it. Merlin knows our Lord has forgiveness for you and your...tastes, but at least you can follow a simple edict."
Lucius smiled knowingly at Snape's comment,
"You ought to join me sometime, Severus. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how to get you to have a little fun. What's the point of power if you do not wield it every now and then?"
Snape brought up the battle plans casually. They laughed at Potter's stupidity. They chatted over two more courses, meticulously and elegantly prepared, and were only interrupted by the return of one house elf.
"Ah, Frinky. What news?"
The house elf lay prostrate in front of its master. Frinky replied,
"Lord Master Malfoy, Frinky has returned with news of the missing one. He hides in the dark woods, near the abandoned coven holdfast."
"The old safe house?" Snape asked.
Lucius replied, dismissing Frinky with a disgusted wave,
"Indeed. After Potter and his friends commandeered it for their pitiful Order, the Dark Lord decided to abandon it, tainted as it was."
Snape knew, of course, but Lucius liked to feel in-the-know.
"I'll go at once. The Dark Lord will learn of your help in his capture, dear friend. Thank you so much for your assistance."
"There is no need for gratitude when loyalty is its own reward," Lucius shook Snape's hand warmly.
Severus could tell by the look on Malfoy's face that the gratitude did not go amiss.
In the woods, Severus could hear the wolf's moans carry through the trees. What an idiot he was. Voldemort would have Snape kill him, he was sure, but the American had been sent to dispose of Lupin, as well as thwart Potter's plans for the order, and had failed, that was that. Snape was anything if not the clean up crew.
"LaBeaux," Snape found the injured man huddled against the stones of the run down cottage.
Remus had gotten the better of him, and even though Severus was not a fan of any shifters at the moment, he did take a little pride in knowing that the beauty-product potions "master" was no match for trusty Lupin.
"Snape, you have to help me. I have to finish the job. I can do it. There's still time," Remy was bleeding down his arms, and Snape was careful not to touch any of it as he lifted him to his feet.
"Time's up," Severus whispered and apparated them to the Death Eater sanctuary.
As their bodies hit the cold floor of the church, Severus sank to his knees. He would have put his forehead to the ground if he wasn't gripping the wolf with his hand. In the other fist, Snape held out his wand, a symbol of offering to the Dark Lord. Very few Death Eaters followed this custom anymore, but that was one of the reasons Snape had climbed so high so quickly. Voldemort loved tradition and flattery, so Snape never held back.
It was silent in the grand cathedral hall for a few moments. Snape could picture in his mind where the Dark Lord sat. He had put a throne where the broken pulpit used to rest, and the large Gothic architecture served to frame him in a macabre picture of doom. Dramatic.
A low hiss broke the oppressive silence,
"Severussss. You have brought me a gift."
"Yes, my Lord," Snape did not raise his eyes.
"What is this gift, Loyal One?"
"My Lord, this is Remington LaBeaux, the werewolf who wanted entry into your outer coven."
A dark chuckle echoed through the empty chapel,
"And has he succeeded in his quest?"
A cry of anguish came out of Remy's mouth. Snape replied,
"No, my Lord."
"Mmm," Voldemort mused, "what do we do with failures, Severus?"
"I will carry out your will, my Lord."
Snape still had not looked up, but he could feel Voldemort step closer to them. Without warning, Voldemort kicked the wolf away from Severus violently. He didn't dare lift his gaze, not even to watch the carnage. Snape didn't budge a muscle until the Dark Lord offered his ring to kiss and lifted him to his feet with a cold, bony hand. LaBeaux's screams were annoying,
"Don't kill me, please! It's him. He's messing up all my assignments! Snape wants the mudblood bitch for himself!"
At the sudden accusation, Severus knew instinctively what would happen. Voldemort would reach into his mind and find what Snape presented as the truth. The Dark Lord still knew nothing of his Legimency, and further still, he did not know that Snape was better at it than he was.
So, as if on auto-pilot, Snape fed Voldemort the key scenes:
His conversation with LaBeaux
"That mudblood is none of your business. She is an explicit project for the Dark Lord, and therefore she is my property, my responsibility…"
Hermione screamed in his mind,
"I don't care if you don't love me…"
He showed the moment where he had shoved her against the wall, his hands around her neck. Showed the Dark Lord how she cowered in fear of his Death Eater's mask. He even let glimpses of their drunken sex slip through, and by the time the Dark Lord left his mind, Hermione looked like a traitorous, lust-filled minion. Severus did not show the pain that he wanted to feel for betraying her trust. He did not allow himself to feel guilty. Instead, he let his pride and rage pour out. But, the Dark Lord would never know that it was his pride in Hermione that he was actually feeling.
Voldemort reached out to brush Snape's cheek,
"Loyal One. How dare this wolf question your allegiance? Please, take your revenge. That is my gift to you."
"Thank you, my Lord. Your will shall be done."
Snape fixed a shark-like gaze to the bleeding scum writhing on the floor. He palmed his wand and, without the slightest hesitation, bent to the ground and whispered,
"Sectum Sempra."
The Dark Lord laughed with a sick delight as Remington's wails echoed through the church,
"Oh, Severus, you know that's one of my favorites. Lucius has been trying for years to find something just as exciting, but alas, he's like a hammer to a canvas," Voldemort watched as Remy's body was sliced into little ribbons by Snape's darkest magic, "You are a true artist."
Severus gave him a deep bow,
"You honor me, my Lord."
"Now, about this little mudblood whore," Voldemort walked beside Severus on his way to the balcony overlook. Nagini trailed behind, hissing as she passed the body of the now-dead wolf.
"She is..insistent, my Lord. I know you're aware that I am physically repulsed by her kind," Snape shuddered in disgust.
Voldemort chuckled,
"Much to Lucius's dismay. He wanted you to follow his path of debauchery so badly."
"He does not understand the power of the blood, my Lord. Purity is a blessing," for a moment, Severus thought he had spoken out of turn, but the Dark Lord nodded.
"Yes, Lucius does not know the price of purity as we know it, Loyal One. But, I hope you will nourish this relationship. She may be unclean, but if Potter's lifelong friend can betray him, then he will fall that much easier when his time comes."
"I will do as you command, my Lord."
"You are dismissed, Severus."
"As you wish, my Lord."
With a deep bow, Snape apparated out of the cathedral and back to his quarters.
After they had eaten dinner, and after he had admitted that LaBeaux's death was his own doing, they decided to stay cooped up. She said she didn't care what he had done, but he could see that death upset her, and that he was the instrument was at least a little disturbing. But, now, Hermione lay curled up on the floor, a mountain of pillows around her and one of Severus' oldest tomes stretched across her lap. She was snoring lightly, and for a moment, Snape couldn't help but want to put this exact moment in his pensive. His lioness was a sight to behold. Her beautiful mind always sharpening itself like a shining rapier, her love and affection was the antithesis to his entire existence. He was most certainly in love with her, and he never wanted her to leave his side. He'd die for her.
Carefully, he lifted her to his bed chamber and lay her beside him. As she settled in, she nudged his arm up and rested her head on his chest. Moments of doubt fluttered into his mind. She can withstand one killing, but what about fifty? What if it's Muggles? Children? Could she remain the sheath to a very bloody sword? He fell asleep with his doubt fresh on his mind, and he made a silent vow to end this war, one way or another. Hermione was his conscience now. Her world should be better, and he would make it so.