Ch. 21— The Flagship
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Hermione woke on a gasp, jackknifing up in bed.
Her entire body quivering, she looked down and blinked.
… ….a needle. There was a needle taped to the back of her hand. Seeing double, her eyes slowly tracked the clear piece of tubing as it ran the length of her arm up behind her, and she saw that it was connecting her to a medicinal drip attached to the headboard.
She was being… …drugged through a needle…in her arm.
Gods! She felt the sluggishness of the drug as it hit her system.
Wincing, she doggedly ripped the needle and tubing from her hand, and gained her feet, almost toppling over into the nightstand.
The nightstand… …her wand. The thought came out of nowhere. She had to get to her wand—the world tilted and spun.
It was so hard to move, to think!
Don't think, just do. She said this to herself as she opened the nightstand drawer and groping blindly, found her wand.
Don't think, just do. She pulled it out, and holding it up to her eyes, blinked at it owlishly until it came into focus. Gods! What's next? What came next?
Her wand… and then apparate.
She had to apparate.
She felt the urgency of the thought come out of nowhere upon her, piercing the sluggishness she felt. She had to fight the effects of the drugs and apparate. But why?! Why did she even need to apparate? She was in no condition to do so… …she'd splinch herself for sure.
SHE HAD TO! Some inner thought, some inner voice prompted her, seeming to guide her along.
She had to apparate…but where?!
…a picture of the forest from this afternoon appeared with startling clarity amidst her drugged thoughts. To the forest. That was right. She had to get to the magical wellspring in the forest.
SHE HAD TO!
Gathering herself, she forced her mind to focus. Focus, Hermione!
She could apparate to the forest. She could do it!
Shaking her head to clear it slightly, Hermione pictured the forest wellspring in her mind as plainly as she was able, and clutching her wand tightly to her, Apparated away with a LOUD CRACK!
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She stumbled, almost falling to the forest floor, but for arms—strong, invisible arms—that caught her.
They gathered her close as she panted, breathing as if she'd run a mile, her muscles quivering from fatigue. She was clutched against a solid chest and her cheek was pressed against whoever held her, but she could not see the man to know.
This wasn't right. There was something wrong with this, she thought vaguely.
But even so, she felt herself beginning to relax, the arms around her held her tight, keeping her upright as hands began rubbing up and down her back in a soothing cadence. And she nestled into the non-existent chest that held her, burying her face into the robes?!
She knew those robes!
Her thoughts were a muddled mess as the remains of the drug coursed its way through her system, but she retained the presence of mind to reach up and feel the face of the man that held her so firmly to him.
Immediately, his hand cradled hers as he held it pressed to his cheek. And she felt around as someone blind would 'read' a face: his thin, angular chin; his high, furrow-lined brow; a nose that was just a bit beaky…
...Severus?
She must have spoken his name aloud because she felt him nod, and then he was walking her gently back to the trunk of a gnarled tree and urging her to sit. And she did so, her back propped against it, closing her eyes and trying to shake away the fatigue she felt.
Gods, but she had done it! She had done what she needed to do.
And now, she could rest.
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His heart in his throat, Severus watched the girl close her eyes and lean her head back against the tree. Gods, but she was so strong! So very strong to overcome all that she had! He had encouraged her as best he could, offered as much prompting, as much comfort as he could while she had stumbled and fought in that thrice-damned hotel room for her freedom.
She was asleep within moments propped against the tree: a deep, restful sleep that did not include dreams.
And for the first time that week, Severus Snape was thankful for that for he needed to concentrate.
This afternoon, he had been so close—so very close!—to finding the particular energy resonance of the place. But then Lucius had returned with her, and her questions begun, and then they were leaving the wellspring…
He had needed more time!
And now, he had it. And he knew exactly what he needed to do.
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Lucius needed to get back to them!
This was ever so much worse than anything Severus or he imagined. He didn't know much about muggle science, and what he did know was mostly due to Hermione's own tutelage and research, but he did understand the general idea of genetics enough to know that what these two muggles were talking about could spell ruin for the magical world.
Something on the muggle filth's cellular device started beeping, and Lucius moved in for a closer look as the filth cursed. "Fuck! Grieg! We have a problem. Get the Commandant!"
The muggle in the white lab coat quickly yanked a large red telephone with a curling cord off the wall and spoke hurriedly into its receiver. A moment later, there was buzzing on the filth's cellular device. He answered the summons immediately.
"She's at the lay lines; I don't know how."
Severus had succeeded. Lucius thought in relief, but quickly on its heels came dismay. The muggle filth knew it! How? How could he have known?!
"I gave her enough sedative to down a small elephant, but the GPS tracking tag I placed in her pocket has her there instead of at the hotel."
Stepping closer to the cellular until he could hear what was being said on the other end, Lucius listened as the now-familiar voice of the Commandant spoke, "Well, what does she know? Does she know anything about the project?"
The filth ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it. "Only that I know she's a witch, and now she knows I'm out to get her."
The Commandant sighed. "So we let her go and fish for another… …perhaps one less notabl—"
"NO!" The filth roared into the cellular device. "I have spent ten years! Ten years of my life devoted to discovering the genetic coding for magic, designing the serum, and entrapping her. And I'm not going to let some happenstance fluke ruin that!"
"You stand down Fortenbrass, and that's an order!" The Commandant bellowed. "This is much more than happenstance, son. The girl is dangerous, and she now knows you're not to be trusted. We've blown our shot. It's time to call a halt to the project at least for the time being."
The muggle filth drew a deep breath, and Lucius could see he was preparing to argue. "Respectfully, sir. Our plan can still work. We have the serum, and it's almost complete. We only need one final test to see if it will work on her blood, and then, all we need to do is be in close enough proximity to shoot a dart into her shoulder or thigh. And just like that, no more magic."
"The serum isn't ready yet." Doc spoke loudly from behind the muggle filth. "I need a couple of hours at least. And even then, it will be a slapdash affair. It's best for us to cut our losses, Mic, and find anoth—"
"Not an option," He ground through clenched teeth. "It has to be her. She is the one, the flagship. If we can convert her, then others of her kind might come willingly. They might even see it as the right thing to do… like signing a contract against the use of nuclearized weapons for warfare. Compare it to the Geneva Convention if you'd like, but Hermione Granger is a hero of the wizarding world. If we have her as our model, then our cause will be endorsed and could even be approved by them."
"And if they don't willingly surrender their magic, soldier? We'll have us a goddamned World War III, wizard-style, and that's not a fight I want to fight, son. Not at all." Lucius heard the Commandant give a deep sigh. "It was a good idea, still is a good idea, but it's in its infancy, and I'm very much afraid we've just tipped our hand."
Oh, but you have no idea, thought Lucius as he watched the muggle filth's face, reading him carefully as to know his next move.
"I understand, sir. Completely," said the filth. Lucius spotted a tightness in his jaw, a slight shaking to the negative of his head. Reading him for deception, Lucius could tell he was lying; he was not ready to give in yet— he was still, in fact, committed his course.
"I'm truly sorry, son," the Commandant said, "I know how much this meant to you, and how much that girl has come to mean to you. In everything but looks, the resemblance between her and your Margerie was uncanny, but you can't let that cloud your judgment, soldier. You've got to let it go—let her go. I want you to stand down, abort the project, and wait at base for your next assignment."
The muggle filth's fists tightened, his jaw hardened in resolve as he said tightly, "Yes, sir. I will abort. You have my word."
Ah, but the word of one such as you isn't worth Leprechaun Gold, Lucius opined to the room at large. Too bad none could hear him.
"Good, then. You'll receive your next assignment at zero-eight-hundred."
"Yes, sir."
Pressing a button on the device, the filth lowered it from his ear and studied Doc Grieg inquisitively, taking his measure. The filth smiled, and Lucius could see the predatory gleam in it. "Y'know, Grieg, it's a shame for the blood samples I took to go to waste; have you had time to analyze them yet, Doc?"
Doc warmed to the filth's charm, becoming part of his element in the scientific lab and going back over to the equipment where the vials of Hermione's essence swirled and spun using centrifugal force. "You know, I only just separated them into their constituents. It's a shame too, to never know if the serum would work on her or not, but—" the bespectacled muggle shrugged as if to say, 'such is life'.
"We still could, you know? See if it would work… C'mon Grieg. Commandant Lewis didn't say you had to abort the project, and only you and I would know." And Lucius could spot the muggle filth's manipulative ploy from a mile away.
"Well—" the muggle Doc looked hesitant, his eyes cutting to the still-spinning vials, a look of yearning in them.
The filth's pond scum eyes pleaded with Doc's. "—and it would set my mind at ease to know we, at least, had some kind of basic defense against them should something like what happened ten years ago to me and my family happen again."
"I—" the muggle nodded his head. "Alright, Mic. But this goes no farther than the two of us."
The muggle filth's eyes met those of the Doc as he said, "Grieg, you have my word."
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Lucius ran.
He ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing after him and then twice as fast.
The muggle filth had driven them back to the hotel at a break-neck pace, and that was after he had—but no, that was unimportant now. What was important was getting to Hermione. He had to get to Hermione first!
Dressed all in black, practically one of the shadows, the muggle filth had some kind of device over his eyes that enabled him to seek and sense heat. And it was this device that was allowing him to walk the forested path with quiet, sure footsteps.
Lucius, meanwhile, was running ahead, using memory and the practically non-existent moonlight that filtered through the 'Green Tunnel' of foliage to the forest floor in order to keep to the path. If he hadn't have been able to run through roots and branches, he would surely be black, bloodied, and blue by now. But then, of course, he'd have his thrice-damned wand with him and absolutely none of this sordid business would be happening!
Gods!
He ran harder.
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Concentrating on exactly what he wanted to do, Severus forced his mind clear of all other thoughts. His focus was clear—he wanted to speak to her. The rhythm of the place was beneath him, humming into and through him. He could feel it resonating within becoming part of him, and he becoming part of it. The energy of the wellspring trickled through him in a small stream, then a rushing river, and then sweeping over him in a tide, almost bursting the dam he had constructed to funnel it… almost.
But he controlled it, years of honed discipline enabled him to do so, setting his mind at ease with the rhythm of the place, tuning his magical energy to match it, amplify it …resonate with it.
His intention clear, Severus spoke.
"Ms. Granger?" He walked over to her and shook her gently on the shoulder. Starting slightly, she awakened and blinked up at him uncomprehending. Of course, he was still invisible, but that hardly mattered. The question remained, could she hear him?
"Ms. Granger—Hermione? Can you hear me?" He crouched down until his eyes were on level with hers and put a hand under her chin, drawing it up to the wan moonlight that filtered through the trees as he examined her. Her pupils had returned to approximate their normal size which meant that the drug in her system had almost fully run its course.
She nodded dazedly. "Severus. Yes, I can…only just…it sounds as though you are very far away."
He touched her shoulder. "I'm right here beside you. It's an unusual state of circumstances in which Lucius and I find ourselves, but I am right here beside you."
She looked down at the non-existent hand clutching her shoulder and then back approximate to where his head would be. Biting her lip, she asked him, "I hope you don't mind me asking this, but why did you deny my recent request of funding for experimentation?"
Severus smiled softly at her, even if she couldn't see it, and he had to stop himself from reaching up and caressing her cheek. He said sternly, "Because you did not follow proper protocol in collecting your research."
Closing her eyes and resting her head back against the trunk of the tree, she nodded. "And Lucius?"
"With the muggle bast—Michael… he went with Michael after the muggle rendered you insensate and drew your blood for testing… …to use for a serum of some kind. Do you know anything about this, Ms. Granger? Can you tell me anything about it?"
Severus watched as she slowly reached up and felt the puffy, swollen area along her cheek where the bastard Mic had slapped her. Her hand lowered to her lap as she shook her head. "No, I—we only corresponded through research. The project I was working on years ago dealing with nanotechnology, do you remember? I was having such trouble with molecular transfiguration replication, and I read a paper of his dealing with technology of the future.
"We only physically met four months ago, but we've been corresponding via email and vidchat for years. I—Gods!" she scrubbed at her face tiredly. "His own work is in molecular chemistry, specifically the human genome. It was his body of work that led me to the breakthrough treatment and recovery of Neville's parents, and his research is the cornerstone of what I hope will eventually give the squibs back their magic."
"And in all this time, you never once suspected that he knew you were a witch?" Severus asked quietly.
"I—"She bit her lip and smiled sadly. "Only of the metaphorical kind, Severus. I was very careful. He knew the privacy clauses I was under precluded any discussion of my work outside the company seat, and I thought he was contented with that." Her tone was self-recriminating, and Severus watched as her hands balled up into fists, her jaw and thoughts turning inward. He didn't need legilimency to see where she was going with this.
His little witch was every bit a masochist at times as he could be.
Gently, he took her hands in his and forced her balled fists to relax. "Hermione," he began, "the bast—Michael is a manipulator of the first water, and is almost as gifted with charm and exploitation as the Dark Lord. There was no way, unless you had been a skilled legilimens and trained in the art of deception that you could have known what he was doing to you. He knew you well—very well—and I have my suspicions that he has been studying you for some time, perhaps even before you began your correspondence."
Her face lost its color, and she withdrew her hands from his hold. She cried, "Dear Gods! What have I done?"
And Severus watched as she buried her head in her hands and wept.
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Helpless.
Severus was utterly helpless in the face of her distress.
Anyone else he knew what to do, how to resolve this: either shut them up or send them bawling away from him.
But not her. Not ever again.
Hermione had made a point to never cry in front of him. Over the years, the most she had ever given him was bleary-eyed scorn, putting him in his place but neatly with cutting words and even sometimes cutting hexes.
The witch before him continued to cry un-consoled, her tears more poignant because she was so disturbingly quiet over the whole affair. Gods! Where was Lucius?!
Lucius could comfort her. He knew exactly what to do in these types of situations.
But him?
Moving from his crouched position to a seated one beside her against the trunk of the tree, he reached out, and hoisting her, drew her up until she was in his lap, her small, quaking body draped across his knees as she continued to silently weep into her hands.
Words of consolation, nonsense words?
Should he try nonsense words? Did he know any?! "There… …there… Hermione. There …there." Oh, but the words sounded pat, and it seemed only to make the girl cry harder! He drew her closer into his arms so that she was leaning against his chest and began rocking them both slightly. "You are safe now. The bastar—the muggle has no way of knowing where you went. And I am with you, my girl. Hush."
Her wracking sobs lessened as she nodded, listening to his words. Eventually, she relaxed the slightest bit into his embrace, un-balling herself a little and leaning more against him. Her breathing grew less jagged. And then she was looking up at him…or at least at the place where she thought him to be, and he felt his heart constrict when he noticed her eyes and nose were runny.
"Wh-what of L-Lucius? H-how will he find us?" Her voice sounded uncertain, her eyes lost as she tried and failed to see him in the darkness. Gods! How Severus hated this disembodied existence!
Taking the sleeve of his robes, he dabbed at the runny mess on her face as he stated, "He knew I was trying to return us to the wellspring; he'll make his way back here as soon as he can, and then we shall decide what to do from there."
Swallowing thickly, she nodded, her tears lessened and then ceased altogether as she put her head back against his chest and breathed deeply. Severus continued to hold her cradled in his invisible lap as her breathing returned to normal.
He made a study of her, beginning with the crown of her head: her formerly neat braid was now haggard and coming unbound, her eyes were now red-rimmed and puffy, her cheek was swollen and bruised where the bastard had hit her, and her clothes were soiled and wrinkled from the events earlier in the day.
But even for all of that, she was ever lovely. She looked up at where she thought him to be as he continued in his perusal, and he saw her eyes narrowing in curiosity, and Severus knew that the next question she asked was going to be one that he dreaded.
"Why can't I see you? You're not under an invisibility cloak, and it's not a disillusionment charm…."
Severus grit his jaw and answered tightly. "No, Ms. Granger. It's not."
His words seemed to recall them both to the intimacy of the moment. In the moon-dappled darkness, he saw her cheeks tinge pink as she realized she was being cradled by and comforted by him. Her body immediately stiffened against his, her awareness returning.
This was no dream, and she was fully conscious of how inappropriate their actions were. Severus had to stop himself from holding tighter to her as she made to disentangle herself from his lap and his hold.
He forced himself to accept it.
This was reality. The girl was not besotted with him in actuality as she was in her dreams. They had made love, but it was an unremembered fabrication on her part…just a figment of her imagination.
And although he was certain some part of her did remember—for how else would she have let him comfort her otherwise?— this was not a dream, and he needed to remember that.
She moved until she was to the side of him, still able to brush against and feel his robes, but no longer touching him in any significant way, and Severus forced himself to acknowledge and then dispose of his disappointment.
Drawing her wand, she felt around with her other hand until she encountered his bicep, and then she performed a 'finite incantatem' which, of course, had no effect.
She ran a diagnostic spell, and wrinkled her brow when she could find nothing to tell her just what spell he was under.
"Ms. Granger…" Severus began, uncertain of how he was going to continue, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucius tripping over tree roots and branches as he ran pell-mell down the ravine to the forest floor where the two of them sat, almost falling flat on his face as he stumbled gracelessly before them.
"What was that?!" Hermione yelped, her eyes widening at the noise of cracked tree limbs, and then she didn't even have time to scream as Lucius hoisted her from the forest floor, and clapping an invisible hand to her mouth to silence her screaming, proceeded to dig into the back pocket of her jeans until he found the silver button-like mechanism the bastard prick had placed there earlier that night.
Severus closed his eyes, his jaw grit tight.
The tag.
He had forgotten the muggle tag! In all the confusion: in her drugged sleep, getting her to this place, and his discovery of magical resonance… he had forgotten the small button-like device.
Lucius gasped as he held her against his chest. "You can… talk to her… right?"
Hermione was scared to death, her eyes wide as saucers
"Yes, I can talk to her," Severus said aloud for Hermione's benefit, gaining his feet to stand before them.
"Tell her it's… me." Lucius panted. "And this is some… kind of… tracking device, Severus. He's known… where she's been… for hours. He's…coming."
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