Chimera
Pairing: Sevmione (Severus Snape x Hermione Granger)
Universe: EXTREMELY AU. So AU, in fact, that I do not have an explanation for where it takes place.
Rating: M for language, sex
Summary: Hermione Granger was a grad student until she woke up in some other world, where a handsome man and his eerily persuasive mother have taken her under their wing. She can't remember who she is or how she got there, but she does know that the surly stranger with a high place in court is not to be trusted . . . probably.
A gift for my friend oblivionbaby, both for being the thousandth review on Clean (!) and for being an overall delight. Plot heavily influenced by the book The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic by Emily Croy Barker.
Chimera | noun, \kī-ˈmir-ə, kə-\
Def: a horrible or unreal creature of the imagination; a vain or idle fancy;
i.e., he is far different from the chimera your fears have made of him.
"What's this?" Merope asked impishly, nudging the thing's foot. "Did you put this here?"
"Of course not, Mother," Tom said smoothly, chuckling fondly at her foolishness. "Why would I?"
"A girl, is it?" Merope said primly, her hands on her hips. "What kind?"
"A human kind, I presume," Tom supplied with a sigh, bending to look at her. "Sort of pretty, I suppose." He stood. "Or will be, once you've finished."
"Too much hair," Merope sniffed in displeasure. "Good size, though."
"I think she'll be interesting for a time, don't you?" Tom asked whimsically. "You've been so bored lately, anyway."
"True," Merope agreed, sneaking a sharp kick at the girl's leg to see if she'd notice. "When will she wake?"
"Soon, I'm sure," Tom said indifferently, tiring of the conversation. "I've got to run, Mother, but you'll take care of her, won't you?"
"I suppose if I'm to be so tasked," she permitted, letting him kiss her cheek before he strode forward, his boots echoing through the vast, cavernous corridors of the castle.
"Now then," she said, bending again to look at her. "Yuck," Merope said to nobody in particular, making a face. "Far too much hair," she mumbled, brushing her skirts aside as she started her work.
There are two ways to wake, as far as Hermione Granger is concerned. One is slow and comfortable, wherein one opens one's eyes to find one is in the precise location one would expect to be. The bedroom in which one falls asleep, for example. Such is the preferred waking.
The other, of course, is with a start, like a cannon explosion, wherein one is entirely disoriented, and forcefully bolts upright. That, of course, was how Hermione awoke to her new life.
"What happened?" she gasped, frantically trying to wiggle her way out of a set of tightly tucked silk sheets. "Why am I - "
There was a small tsk from the corner of the room and Hermione looked up to find a beautiful woman she had never seen before; her skin was startlingly pale and her eyes, the most distinctive and alluring Hermione had ever seen, were dark and slightly unfocused.
"Too loud," the woman said impatiently, making a childish face of disapproval. She perched herself lightly on the bed - impossibly lightly, Hermione thought, wondering how she did not feel the shift of weight beside her - and reached over, placing her hands on either side of Hermione's face.
"Um," Hermione said, swallowing with discomfort, "what exactly are you - "
"Quiet," the woman instructed briskly. "You will be quiet, yes?"
"Yes?" Hermione offered, and the woman shook her head unhappily.
"Say it," she demanded. "Say, 'I will be quiet.'"
"I will be quiet," Hermione repeated, and she was startled to find that her tone had suddenly deepened in timbre, her voice taking on the kind of soothing, melodic strum she'd always secretly envied in other women. "Oh," she said, and the other woman nodded with satisfaction, removing her hands.
"Good," she said, suddenly clapping her hands with glee. "Excellent."
"Sorry," Hermione said slowly, "but could you tell me who you are, please?"
"Merope," the woman said, "and we have to get you ready."
"Ready?" Hermione echoed blankly. "For . . . what?"
"The ball!" Merope declared jubilantly, rising to her feet. "We have ever so much work to do."
"A ball?" Hermione repeated.
"The ball," Merope corrected, pausing to rest a hand on Hermione's head. "Listen better."
"Okay," Hermione replied numbly, wondering why she was now seeming to hang on Merope's every word, as though her body urgently ached to hear the other woman speak. "The ball?"
"Yes," Merope said curtly. "The ball where you'll meet my son."
"Your son?" Hermione asked, her voice shaky with confusion. "Is he very young?"
As far as Hermione could tell, Merope looked scarcely older than she was.
"Oh no, my son is a man," Merope said quickly. "A human man," she added, as though that were in question. Somehow, Hermione didn't think it safe to ask. "I think," Merope added slowly, "if I do a good enough job - which I will," she amended confidently, "then perhaps you should marry my son."
Hermione made a low, strangled noise of protest. "But," she sputtered, and then Merope's hand was on her head again, soothing her.
"Don't fuss," Merope said with a sigh, narrowing her eyes in displeasure. "It's tiresome."
"Okay," Hermione agreed, feeling dizzy as Merope withdrew her hand and set about the room, which Hermione realized was a vast, elegant bedroom lined with floor to ceiling windows, each of which overlooked a stunning, palatial garden. "But does your son want to marry me?"
Merope, who had been opening the grandest wardrobe Hermione had ever seen, paused at that. "Hmm," she said, her oddly-shaped eyes widening. "What did you say your name was?"
"Hermione," she supplied. "Hermione Granger."
"Is that a name?" Merope asked in confusion, frowning into space. "Ah, well, I suppose," she decided after a moment, giving a pert little shrug. "Hermione, was it?"
Hermione nodded, finding that both her mind and body seemed frozen, awaiting Merope's instruction.
"Let's do something about your hair, Hermione," Merope mused, perching again on the bed to curl a ringlet around her finger; Hermione was surprised to see the curl, which had until that moment been its usual mess of frizz, bounce upwards in a golden-tinged ringlet. "And then we can set about concerning ourselves with whether Tom wants to marry you."
She hummed a little as she wandered through the room, returning to the wardrobe. "I think this will be just the thing," Merope said, pulling out a floor length satin gown. "Don't you?"
There's no way I'll look good in that, Hermione opened her mouth to say, but as she looked down at herself, she realized that wasn't true. She was suddenly quite reassured that her body would, in fact, be flatteringly framed by the flimsiest fabric she'd ever seen, and though she heard a faint voice in her head - Jesus Christ, Hermione, you'll spill something on that thing! - she found it pleasantly easy to ignore.
"Yes," she said happily, taking Merope's proffered hand and moving primly to sit, placid and doll-like, at the crystal vanity. Merope happily went to work on her hair and makeup, transforming Hermione's already petite features into the kind of breathless, delicate prettiness that she would have associated with a Hollywood starlet. It was a lengthy process but a fruitful one; Hermione wondered how she could have ever thought herself plain, eyeing her reflection. Was her skin not perfectly fair? Her hair not stunningly blonde? Her lashes not sensationally coquettish?
"Ah, perfect," Merope pronounced after zipping her up. "Oh, except one thing," she said apologetically, giving Hermione's breasts a quick fondle. "There," she said, smiling as Hermione's cleavage swelled appealingly. "What more could he want!"
"You must be Hermione," a handsome man said, bowing low. "I'm Tom."
"Tom," Hermione said breathlessly, finding it difficult not to stare into his cornflower blue eyes. "Merope said - "
"Ah yes, you've spent the day with my mother," Tom said with a smile. "Did you take to each other?"
"I think we did," Merope supplied, materializing out of nowhere. "Didn't we, Hermione?"
"Yes, certainly!" Hermione said, ducking her head coyly. "A pleasure."
"You are stunning," Tom noted appreciatively, his eyes traveling hungrily over her. Hermione, who would normally have found such behavior repulsive, was instead pleased with his attention. "Was it difficult, Mother?"
"Only a little," Merope said brightly. "Overall, quite good, I think."
"Oh, absolutely," Tom agreed. "Quite pleasing. May I?" he asked, offering Hermione his arm.
"Of course," she returned exuberantly, giving Merope a broad smile as she took his arm. He swept them out of the ballroom, walking her to a balcony that overlooked a vast, mirror-like lake.
"Hermione," he said, her name dripping like honey from his tongue. "Are you happy here?"
"Yes," she breathed, leaning into his touch as he lifted her chin, his breath dancing across her lips. "Yes, Tom, I - "
There was a cool breeze from somewhere - inside the castle, she wondered in confusion - and she shivered, catching sight of a dark figure amidst the crowd.
A tall man stood there, at least as tall as Tom, though nowhere near as handsome; he was dressed in a long black cloak, his dark hair swept out of his face, and he was staring relentlessly at her.
"Who's that?" Hermione asked, blinking.
Tom turned. "Oh," he said, clearly irritated with the interruption. "That's Severus, my advisor."
"He looks terrible," Hermione said, bringing a scandalized hand to her chest, and Tom laughed - a lively, exuberant laugh that made Hermione want to never hear another sound for the remainder of her life.
"Oh, he is," Tom assured her. "Killed his wife, you know."
"No!" Hermione exclaimed, aghast. "And yet you let him advise you?"
"His wife was . . . unsatisfactory," Tom said darkly, a flicker of something appearing in his narrowed blue eyes. "I agreed with his decision."
Hermione frowned. "But - "
"Hermione," Tom interrupted. "Do you wish me to kiss you?"
"Yes," she realized, entirely consumed by him once more. "Yes, oh Tom - "
And then his lips were on hers, and she tasted euphoria.
"So," she heard a voice say behind her. "Are you enjoying the party?"
She turned from where she'd been watching Tom converse with his friends to face the man Tom had called Severus, who was, indeed, quite severe.
"I am," she cooed happily. "Isn't he wonderful?"
She waited for Severus to agree, but his mouth twisted strangely into something she guessed was disapproval.
"Well," Severus said moodily, "that is most unfortunate."
"What is?" Hermione asked, wishing the man would cheer up; his sulkiness was dampening her mood.
"How long have you been here?" Severus asked brusquely. "Do you know?"
"Of course I know," Hermione said, shaking her head at his consummate silliness. "I arrived earlier today, and Merope helped me get ready, and now I'm at the ball." She turned back to Tom, sighing dreamily. "Merope says I can marry him," she added, smiling broadly. "Aren't I lucky?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Severus grumbled, taking her by the shoulders and turning her.
"Ouch!" Hermione protested, startled by the jostling. "Excuse me, I - "
"You've been here for three weeks," Severus told her urgently. "You arrived at the first ball three weeks ago."
"That's impossible," Hermione assured him sweetly. "I saw you for the first time just about an hour ago - "
"Three weeks ago," Severus repeated emphatically, gripping her arms tightly. "Listen to me - "
"No," Hermione said stubbornly, tossing in a pout of displeasure. "I shouldn't be talking to you anyway," she added, a little distressed at the thought, "seeing as Tom might need me - "
She was cut off abruptly as Severus dragged her behind a tapestry, ducking them both out of sight.
"They've covered you in so many enchantments I'm surprised you even know your own name, much less who you are," he said, grimacing.
"Excuse me!" she snapped furiously. "I'm trying to - "
"Here," Severus muttered gruffly, placing his hands over her eyes; she fought him for a moment, then drew a ragged breath. "Now can you see them clearly?"
She thought she'd been standing in a castle; she was wrong. She could see now that they were in a dilapidated manor house, like something out of a dystopian novel from her studies - ah yes, she thought, remembering, I was working on my thesis, and then I found something in the library -
She was distracted as she realized that in place of Tom there was a thin, skeletal man, his skin a pale, chalky white, his face skull-like in construction, and with snake-like slits for nostrils; his blue eyes, which had charmed her to her very soul, were red and flashing and his fingers, which had held her chin only minutes before, were unnaturally long, more claws than hands.
"No," Hermione whispered, "no, no, this can't be happening - "
Beside Tom, a woman who should have been Merope was stooped at his side. Her eyes were slanted, seeming to face in separate directions, and she bore a heavy, miserable expression that could only have been described as grotesque; the rest of their friends, who had been so beautiful only a moment before, were masked and heavily cloaked.
"What did you do to them?" Hermione asked, panicked. "What is this? Where am I? Who are all of these - "
Severus clapped a free hand over her mouth. "Quiet," he warned; she realized that he, unlike the others, looked the same. There was a coldness to him, something that resonated in his eyes; but she, in her panic, clung to him.
"Who are you?" he asked. "How did you get here?"
"I'm Hermione Granger," she said desperately, struggling to remember. "I'm a graduate student studying literature - I'm from London, I was in the library - I found a book - "
She started to hyperventilate and he cautiously sunk to the floor, still holding one hand to her eyes. She ducked her head awkwardly between her knees, trying to breathe.
"Books," Severus sighed. "Dangerous things, at times."
"I - " she managed, struggling to speak. "I - I don't - "
"Breathe," Severus instructed, his voice low. He patterned his breath to set a cadence for hers. "In and out."
She nodded, slowly regaining her capacity to speak. "Why can't I see them like this?" she asked fearfully. "Why am I - "
"Merope is a very powerful witch," Severus told her. "A deeply unhinged one, as well," he added. "Very questionable handle on reality, though" - he paused, emitting a sharp burst of mirthless laughter - "the same could be said for everyone here."
"A witch?" Hermione repeated, horrified. "This - this can't be real, none of it is real, I must have been drugged - "
"It is real," Severus said curtly. "Unfortunately for you, it's all too real, and the moment I release you," he added, gesturing to his hands, "you will return to what you've been the last few weeks."
"Which is?" Hermione prompted, fighting back tears.
"A toy for Merope, and an object of desire for Tom," Severus told her. "Needless to say, I would caution you against marrying him," he added darkly. "Marriage vows are especially binding when there is magic attached."
"You can't let me go on like this," Hermione said fearfully. "You have to help me, you have to clear the enchantments - " she paused, hearing the ludicrousness of the sentence, "or whatever this is - "
"I can't just clear them," Severus pronounced flatly, with a finality that nearly broke something in Hermione. "They'll notice."
"So what if they do?" Hermione asked frantically. "So what if - "
"Tom will kill you," Severus said. "Or Merope," he added, thinking. "But more likely Tom."
"Surely," Hermione begged, "surely there is something - "
He looked scrutinizingly at her. "It would take days to unravel all of this," he deduced, sounding annoyed by the prospect. "Weeks, more likely."
She nudged her face up, trying to see him from under the visor of his hand; his eyes were dark and guarded but not cruel, she decided, and he seemed to soften even more at the sight of her expression.
"Hermione," Merope croaked from a distance, and she flinched violently, nearly upending Severus's hand from her face.
"Please," Hermione whispered desperately. "Please, I'm begging you - "
"Come find me," he muttered to her. "When I remove my hand, the enchantments will return. In the castle, I live in the dungeons."
"What are they really?" she asked hesitantly, and he grimaced.
"Nothing good," he assured her, and she jumped as Merope called her name again.
"What if I don't remember?" she insisted apprehensively. "What if the enchantments are too strong?"
"Stronger than you?" he countered, a flicker of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Doubtful."
He released her, nudging her forward, and she breathed in the warm, comfortable air of the castle, her gown restored and the pleasantness of her surroundings resurrected.
"Hermione," Merope said impatiently, her stunning eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Did you not hear me calling you?"
"I did," Hermione said apologetically, "I came as fast as I could, but something - "
She frowned. What had she just been doing?
"Come now," Merope said, reaching for her hand. "Tom is looking for you."
"Tom," Hermione said pleasantly, thinking eagerly of his jewel-toned eyes and following happily. "Oh, I hope he's not too upset!"
There was a cool rush of air behind her and she turned, catching sight of the man Tom had called Severus; Merope followed her gaze, hissing with disapproval.
"You weren't speaking with Severus, were you?" Merope asked venomously. "I don't know why Tom trusts him. Killed his wife, you know," she said pointedly, nodding at Hermione as though this information were encouraging.
"I don't know him," Hermione said with confusion. "Do I?"
"No," Merope said, brushing her thumb roughly against Hermione's cheek. "No, my dear, you don't."
She woke with a strange, pulsing need to visit the dungeons; it struck her with a jolt, and she realized it was the first time she had remembered waking since her first morning - which was itself only very hazy in her mind, and accompanied by loud, imaginary cannon fire - something she did not know what to do with at the time. A strange curiosity coursed through her and she, unaccustomed to the feeling, decided to pursue it, happily rifling through her wardrobe of silky evening gowns and selecting a cheerful turquoise to match her mood.
The castle was empty and Hermione hummed to herself as she walked, following her inexplicable urge for exploration. There was a tiny piece of her that whispered for her to be careful, to be quiet, but she ignored it.
Merope and Tom would want her to be happy, wouldn't they? Charming people that they were.
She made her way down a narrow, curving staircase, feeling a slight chill in the air that struck her as familiar, if not a bit unwelcome. It was drafty and eerie, and she wondered for a moment why she'd come; she paused at the foot of the stairs, considering whether she should turn back.
"I see you found your way," a voice said, coaxing her forward.
"Hello?" she called, squinting into the darkness. "Tom?" she asked hopefully, brightening at the prospect.
"Ah, not entirely present then," Severus commented gruffly, appearing in a doorway to her right.
"Why am I here?" she asked, and he sighed.
"Come on," he said, gesturing for her to follow. "Clearly" - he said the word with a slight lean, a weighty enunciation - "we have a lot of work to do."
He offered her a small vial of liquid, which she drank; he waited patiently until she blinked in confusion, feeling the heaviness of panic settle itself in her chest.
"Oh god," she said, looking around at the dingy walls and barely standing furniture. She was in a tiny sitting room which had the feeling of a dark, padded cell; the walls were completely covered in books, and she sat beside a rickety table that stood in a pool of dim light. "What is this?"
"Do you remember the conversation you had with me?" he prompted, searching her expression for comprehension.
"I do," she said, frowning. "Am I fixed now?" she asked hopefully, and he laughed.
"Not even remotely," he pronounced with a grimace. "I've merely administered a draught that will allow me an hour to sort through the enchantments on you. Easier," he explained, holding up his hands to gesture to their mobility. "Better than having to cover your eyes the whole time."
"An hour," Hermione sighed sadly. "That's it?"
He seemed uncomfortable with her disappointment and chose not to answer; instead he sat down in front of her, eyeing her like she was a puzzle to be solved.
"I'm going to have to leave your appearance the way it is," he informed her, his tone intently clinical. "I will also have to leave the thread that's blocking most of your memory. Though, to be fair," he added after a moment, "that is really for the best."
Hermione scoffed at that. "For the best? Really?"
"Ignorance is bliss," he muttered, taking hold of her face to look at something she was sure she'd never be able to see. "Best you not be forced to see Tom for what he is, given your circumstances."
She shuddered, resolving not to think about it.
"What do you see?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"It is my lot in life to see things for what they are," he provided ambivalently. "It is why Tom values me, I imagine."
He reached up, loosening something, and she felt a spring fall into place somewhere in her chest. She reached up in surprise, her fingers resting instinctively on her throat.
"Your voice," he explained. "It seems Merope didn't care for it."
"You think that's funny," Hermione noted sullenly, catching a glimmer of amusement in his eye.
"I think what she turned you into is funny," Severus replied easily. "The hair, the eyes. The breasts," he added, his lips quirking up at the corners.
"Like a Barbie doll," Hermione sighed, and he shrugged.
"If you say so," he returned, clearly not recognizing the reference.
She watched him for a moment, intrigued by the concentration on his face. He seemed entirely consumed by his task, his coldness abandoned as he focused, an artist set to work at his craft. He was strangely delicate, oddly elegant; she followed the movements of his fingers, a little entranced against her will.
"You work for him, then?" she asked, clearing her throat as she struggled to speak.
"I advise him," Severus confirmed, not looking up.
"But you're helping me," Hermione said, biting her lip.
"Ah," Severus warned, brushing a finger warningly against her mouth. "Don't do that."
"What?" she asked, puzzled. She brought her own hand up, replacing the spot where his touch had been. "Why?"
"A bad habit that Merope made a point to erase," he noted, glancing at what she imagined to be an intricate, invisible halo of magic floating around her head.
She sighed. "How much did she change about me?"
"More than you want to know," he assured her. "Though you survived it, which says quite a bit about you."
"Survived it?" Hermione repeated, alarmed. "Was there a chance I wouldn't?"
"More than simply a chance," Severus scoffed, shaking his head at her ignorance. "Many before you have not."
"Have you helped them as well?" she asked, trying not to think about how many might have come before.
He swallowed uncomfortably. "No."
She blinked. "Then why - "
He smoothed a hand around her face, tucking a curl behind her ear. "You ask too many questions," he noted, his dark eyes slowly settling on hers.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Not to worry," he said smoothly, giving her a wry smile. "Merope took care of that."
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Tom asked, offering her his arm.
"Oh, of course," Hermione said brightly, accepting. "Merope's gotten me a new dress," she added, reaching down to run her fingers against the fabric. "Do you like it?"
"I love it," Tom said, his eyes sparkling with wolf-like hunger as he ran his fingers along the curve of her waist. "It suits you."
"Merope knows best," Hermione said with a smile, feeling a cool breeze nearby and shivering as a dark cloak came into view.
"What are my clothes really?" Hermione asked, leaning back in the chair and sighing. "All the silk gowns she has me wear, what are they?"
"Rags," Severus replied evenly. "Essentially."
Hermione frowned. "But why do I - "
"She's a very gifted witch," Severus said, shrugging. "Illusion is her specialty."
"What's Tom's?" she asked, and Severus's dark eyes flashed.
"Control," he said tightly, and she watched the muscle tense around his jaw.
"Who are all your friends?" she asked Tom, pouting a little at not having been introduced. "Why haven't I met them?"
Tom gave her a weary look. "Jealousy," he noted with a grunt. "Mother overlooked something."
"I'm not jealous," Hermione said, a little hurt by his displeasure. "I only asked."
Tom sighed, letting his hand slip to her lower back. "I'll fix it later," he muttered. "For now, suffice it to say you would not find my friends interesting."
"But I find you so fascinating!" Hermione argued hopefully, batting her lashes as she looked up at him. "How could I not love them as well?"
"As well?" Tom echoed, flashing his teeth as he smiled. "Do you mean to tell me that you love me?"
"Of course," Hermione insisted breathlessly. "Surely you must know!"
Tom frowned, reaching around her face before finding what he was looking for. "Ah, Mother," he determined with a smirk. "Very well," he said, patting her head. "I love you too, Hermione."
"Oh Tom," she sighed, radiant with pleasure.
"I feel sick," Hermione mumbled, fighting bile in her throat.
"Had a rough day yesterday," Severus noted. "You have a bit of Tom's magic on you now, too."
"It's like one step forward, two steps back," Hermione sighed morosely, wishing she could permit herself the luxury of sobs. "Am I ever going to get out of here?"
"I never said I could help you get out," Severus erupted sharply, letting his hand fall. For the first time, he seemed distracted from his work. "I specifically never said that."
There was something lonely and forlorn in his glance, and she remembered a little tickle of something in her brain; a word of caution.
"They say you killed your wife," Hermione commented, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
"I did not kill my wife," he retorted sharply. "She died, and it was my fault. There's a difference."
"How - "
"She did not please Tom," Severus said curtly, drawing his shoulders back as he set to resume his work. "And as I mentioned," he murmured, his voice low in her ear, "I specifically never said I could get anyone out."
"What was her name?" Hermione whispered.
"Lily," he replied. "And if you ever mention her again, I will no longer be at your disposal."
Hermione nodded. Neither spoke another word.
"You've made it so far, Hermione," Tom crooned in her ear. "I'm so proud of you."
"Have I?" she asked, a little breathless.
"Further than anyone," Tom assured her, nuzzling her neck. "You've pleased me immensely."
"Oh," Hermione said, feeling a little shiver at a coolness somewhere nearby.
Tom leaned back abruptly, his eyes flashing. "Oh?" he repeated angrily. "That's it?"
"Oh, but I'm speechless," she amended quickly. "What words would possibly do my pleasure justice?"
He nodded his approval, his eyes still slightly narrowed. Over his shoulder, Hermione saw a faint smile on Severus's face.
"Tell me the truth," Hermione demanded. "Why are you helping me?"
"Aggressive today," Severus commented simply in response.
She glared at him.
"Maybe I'm getting a little sick of being Merope's puppet," she growled. "And maybe I just want to know one thing that's real."
"Maybe," Severus agreed, frustratingly ambivalent.
She stood, tired of sitting in the goddamn chair; tired of being two goddamn people. Sick as fuck of having two different intuitions. Funny that it was this one she didn't trust, she thought, eyeing him from across the room.
Funny that it was this one she was afraid of.
"Tell me," she begged, and he stared at her.
"You reminded me of her," he said, and she knew he meant Lily. "The way you don't belong. The way you stand out."
"I stand out because of what Merope did to me," she grumbled, but he cut her off.
"No, not that," he said impatiently, moving to stand in front of her. "I told you, I can see things for what they are. I can see you," he explained, his gaze traveling from her eyes to her nose to the curve of her cheek, coming to rest on her lips. "I see you."
For a moment, she held her breath, hardly daring to trust it.
"I'm not her," Hermione warned him, her voice barely above a whisper. He was so close; if she reached out, she could touch him. If she were even a little bit braver, her hips could meet his.
"You're not her," he agreed. "You're you." He drifted towards her and she leaned into him, wondering whose nerve would fill the space between them.
"You're you," he told her, "and you are spectacular."
She shut her eyes, letting his words be the thing to fill her mind for once.
"I want something real," she whispered to him. It was a question, a request, and a demand. Give me something real.
He yanked her chest against his and she braced herself against him, breathless as he lowered his lips to hers; he kissed truth into her soul and she licked the cool flames of him, tasting him, frosty on her tongue.
"More," she pleaded, and he lifted her up, tucking her legs around him as he pressed her roughly against his bookshelf.
She bucked against him, rocking her hips against his, and he lowered his head to her neck, grazing his teeth against her skin as she moaned in his ear, shivering at his touch.
"More?" he asked her, and she whimpered as he nudged her dress aside, running his palm up her thigh and cupping her arse, sighing his satisfaction as she fumbled for his trousers, discarding his heavy cloak and rejoicing in the feel of his skin on hers.
She let her head fall back against the shelf as he slid inside her, tightening her legs around his hips as she closed her eyes, feeling at once the foreign pleasure of his touch and the soothing comfort of being in her own mind.
I want you, she thought, feeling the distinct blow of the I and the want and the you.
"I want you," she said, gasping as his mouth found her breasts.
"I'm yours," he murmured, and she felt herself unravel around him.
"Instead of a party tonight, perhaps a wedding?" Tom asked, his gaze flicking to Merope. "Don't you think she's ready, Mother?"
"What do you think, Hermione?" Merope asked, her voice puckish and testing.
"Oh," Hermione declared, clasping her hands in delight. "A wedding for me? For us?"
"Indeed," Tom confirmed, his narrowed gaze relaxing a fraction of a degree as he made a note of her elation. "You're pleased?"
"Pleased?" Hermione repeated in disbelief, her voice melodic with joy. "Oh Tom, I'm so honored!"
"A wedding it is," Merope determined, viciously pinching Hermione's cheek.
"Oh," Hermione said, seeing the dark cloak out of the corner of her eye. "Hello."
"Hello," Severus said smoothly, giving her a curt nod. "Tom has requested I escort you into your chambers."
"Oh, isn't he just wonderful?" Hermione asked, sighing. "He's so thoughtful."
"He is," Severus determined, offering her an impassive half-smile. "I wish you both a fruitful wedding night."
"Kind of you," she said, flashing him a bright, exultant smile. "He's so lucky to have such good friends."
She stepped forward, ready to head to what was to be her bedroom, when he reached out, gripping her wrist.
"My best wishes for you, Hermione," Severus said softly, closing her fingers around a narrow metallic hilt. She deftly buried it in the folds of her gown, offering him a small curtsy.
"Thank you," she purred, gripping the knife and smiling. "I'm so looking forward to the prospects of the night."
There were two kinds of ways to wake, Hermione reasoned. One was the unpleasant way; a start, like a cannon explosion, wherein one is entirely disoriented, and forcefully bolts upright. That was how Hermione had initially awoken to her new life.
The other, of course, is slow and comfortable, wherein one opens one's eyes to find one is in the precise location one would expect to be. The bedroom in which one falls asleep, for example, after having killed one's husband and fallen into the arms of one's lover, having had one's true self restored.
Such is the preferred waking, she thought, reaching over to press her lips to Severus's neck.
a/n: This skipped the queue for oblivionbaby because she's had a tough time recently, and I had to give her the one thing at my disposal: my unending nonsense. For you, my love! xx
(Also, thanks to Dr. Sally for pre-reading what is decidedly not her pairing, she says, giggling.)
In the queue and coming soon (I haven't forgotten, the muse is just quiet):
Krumione Year 4 fluff for Eidyia1
Breakup Dramione for MereWhispers
Marlene x Regulus for Mabel K
Dudley x Gabrielle for clausumcormeum
Dramione Marriage Law OS
Secret relationship Dramione for agnl9