Chapter 5:

Jareth watched Hermione standing on the balcony with her arms wrapped around her like she was cold. It was temperate; he believed her stance was more defensive than climate control. He wondered what her thoughts were on his Labyrinth but didn't want to make her aware of his presence. It was rare for him to observe Sarah or her friend in an unguarded moment.

Having succeeded in a kiss with the latter, he wondered what would make the former a bit happier to stay a while longer in his castle. Sarah had left him on a bitter note, but she never asked him to send her back home again, so that was one positive that he was quite happy to accept as her affirmation to stay a while longer. Toby had been a huge drawcard, but he was starting to believe he was also enough to tempt her.

It didn't take long to notice Severus slinking through the darkened room, oblivious of Jareth's presence. Severus pushed open the curtain and stepped briskly onto the balcony. Hermione turned to him and gave a small smile that Jareth wasn't sure Severus had even noticed.

Interesting.

They stood some distance apart. Severus spoke first; his hands folded behind his back and his posture stiff and tense.

"It is rather remarkable," he said plainly, though Jareth could hear the tiny uptick of his voice, almost turning it into a question.

"It certainly is something," Hermione replied with a humorous lilt.

Jareth watched Severus' hands clench and unclench as if he was straining to find something to converse with her about. Something that Jareth never struggled with, but his Healer was not the most loquacious human.


"I sense you have a burning question for me, Granger," Snape said as he settled to stand beside her.

After Sarah's reunion with Toby, Hermione had spent the rest of the evening alone in her room with a tray of food and a few books. The morning had given her a brief glimpse of Sarah before she left to have a tour around the Labyrinth with King Jareth, Toby and some of her friends from her first trip. Apparently, any previously committed crime had been forgiven and they were now free to return from the Bog to whatever manner of job they had held previously.

Meanwhile, Hermione had wandered the castle, spent time in the library and even managed to get introduced to a rather fearsome chicken that was apparently more royal than the King. The chicken didn't like her, and Hermione shared the sentiment. She thanked the goblin that had made the introductions and hastily beat a retreat to the sanctuary of the chicken-free library, hoping to never cross paths with the battle-axe chook again.

She scanned the Goblin City, lit by the afternoon sun, directly below her for the flock of chickens being herded by a diminutive goblin on the back of some strange purple two-legged creature before turning her attention back to Snape.

He had gleaned she had a burning question. Of course, she did. She couldn't guess what direction he surmised her question would tend but she knew what question she wanted an answer for.

"Don't I always have questions?" Hermione grinned at his eye roll.

"I won't quibble with that."

"I do have a question for you." Her hand went up to her neck and touched the delicate chain around her neck. The pendant sat under the dusty pink dress she was wearing; a silver acorn with a single emerald situated in the centre. It appeared meaningless, yet Hermione had never taken it off. Not even when she had baths or showers.

"Well, ask it." Adequate patience. Perhaps with a slight terse edge to it.

"You've never welcomed my questions before."

"I explained what I was doing here, didn't I?" He smirked. "I answered all those questions then."

"I suppose."

"So ask."

"I'm going to assume you want me to ask a particular question because you want to answer a particular question."

Snape remained indifferent. "If that helps you."

Hermione rolled her eyes and faced out across the Labyrinth again. Eventually, she spoke. "Why did you leave me this necklace in your will?"

Snape jerked back. His features flickered before smoothing into his controlled facade.

"Ah, not the question you wanted me to ask, I take it." She was studying his face again.

"No," he admitted. And then all the tension he had built up he released with a sigh. "To answer your question, I couldn't think of anybody else that would want the old thing."

"That's it?"

He sighed again. "No."

Hermione raised her brow and widened her eyes to communicate his need to elaborate.

"It's what brought you here. I thought that if anyone was clever enough to work out that I wasn't dead, it was you." Instead, he dropped his hands and placed them on the railing; his knuckles turning white. "I was mistaken."

"What—"

"Well, you already know I was wished away and I knew the moment my life was in mortal peril I would end up back here, but part of me wanted to hear the outcome of the war so I gave you the necklace, hoping you'd figure out I was alive and that realisation would then bring you here so I could discuss…things with you." He cast a scathing look at her. "The acorn is the key. You were just unlucky enough to enter through a realm door with a magical key. Thankfully—for you—that portal led you here and not somewhere…worse."

"Good grief; when I did appear, you tried to throw me in the dungeon!"

"You didn't come because you worked it out. You triggered the spell—somehow—by going through that arch. I was annoyed that once again no one seemed to care that I lived or died." His tone was nonplussed, but his expression bore all the hallmarks of bitterness.

"Story of your life, huh?" Hermione asked not unkindly. "For what it's worth, I am sorry I never spent the time to work it out. It's a good thing Sarah came into my life because I am here now. Without her dragging me through the rain for a walk, I would probably never have cracked it."

Given that it was an acorn pendant, she allowed herself an internal chuckle at her unintentional pun.

"Twenty years later."

"Have you been unhappy here?" Hermione was going to ignore the petulant tone he was using in favour of trying to appear patient and understanding. She knew he was on the verge of insulting her intelligence and wanted to dissuade him from that course the best she could.

"No. I have been content."

"Well, that's something."

"And I guess it is something that you even bothered to wear it at all," he muttered. "Why do you wear it?"

She fondled the chain as she thought of the answer. Hermione had never really thought about it before; it was just a habit now. Only her lovers had ever seen it, and they had never commented on it so she never had to justify it before now. "I guess, it reminded me to not judge people from what they present to you. Your…erm…death was a valuable lesson for a lot of us." She ran a finger along the chain as she saw a slightly covetous look cross his face. She unhooked the clip and let the pendant and chain pool in her palm. She held it out to him.

"Very good," he said, with a haughty sniff, eyeing the pendant. "I am glad that my entire life's sacrifice boils down to this." He took the acorn between finger and thumb and lifted it off her hand, without making the slightest contact with her skin. He eyed the necklace, before slipping it into a pocket in his robe.

"Well—" Hermione started but stopped when he held up his hand.

"I am being serious, Granger," he said, something ineffable shining from the depths of his dark eyes. "If it changed one life for the better, then it was enough." He folded his hands behind his back and drew his lips into a thin line. "It was enough," he said, quieter.

She felt naked without the acorn. Somehow heavier and unanchored. Like she was both unmoored and bound tightly. But returning it to him was the right thing—the only thing she could do. It was his. Not hers. She had merely been lent the acorn and even if she had visited him the way it had been designed to do, then no doubt Snape would have wished for its return.

"And you don't want to come back with me… well, not with me but back with us?" she fielded, knowing that while not everyone in their world supported him, many did. And his intellect and his talents were sorely missed in the potions circles.

"It has been too long."

"I am sure many would like to see you."

"Dubious."

"Harry…Minerva…Kingsley…"

Snape shook his head; his posture like a coiled spring. Hermione could have pushed on in her tenacious way but decided this time she would remain silent.

"And you?"

"Me?" Hermione asked quizzically.

"If I returned, would you push me towards—and then abandon me—to one of these so-called well-wishers?" His voice was strained, his body tense, and his hands fisted at his side. "Would I never see you again?"

"If you wished," Hermione answered diplomatically, not knowing if he meant to disparage the notion of her wanting to see him or not. "I certainly wouldn't force my insufferable presence on you if it was unwelcome."

He grunted and relaxed ever so slightly. "And if your insufferable presence was not…unwelcome?"

"Then I would visit you at your invitation," she replied, dusting her fingers across the railing of the balcony. "But I can't imagine why—"

"There is no one I would truly want to see. Anyone I have ever cared for has been killed…by my own hand at that."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Lily. Dumbledore.

Then inspiration hit. "Draco is still alive, like I said the other day, and would love to see you, I am sure."

He nodded, his lips in a grim line and brows furrowed. "He hated me towards the end. For stealing his glory. And probably for being a turncoat."

"You saved his life. You died to save his life." She was merely pointing out what he had already told her already.

"I would have presumed you believed me to have died on Potter's behalf," he replied, sounding slightly amused.

"You believed Draco would have been the master of the Elder Wand, didn't you?" Hermione asked. "You never ratted him out. Therefore you saved his life by dying. Yes, you saved Harry's too, but…"

"Have you seen Draco since the end of the war?"

"A few times."

"How is he?" He must have realised his question was vague as he tacked on, "What's he doing with his life?"

"Married Astoria Greengrass and has a child called Scorpius." Hermione gazed out over the Labyrinth, following the pathways with her eyes. "He seems happy."

"Good." He frowned then and went on slightly more tentatively. "And Lucius and Narcissa?"

"They hate Draco's wife and other than that, we have very little to do with each other," Hermione said with finality. "They restored the manor and worked tirelessly to look like they no longer despise Muggleborns like me."

"They hate—?"

"She is not their choice. That's all."

"Not pureblood enough for them."

"Something like that."

"Pity." He shook his head. "Draco deserves better." He sniffed. "Better from his parents, I mean."

"He has worked very hard for his redemption but that's all I will say." Hermione crossed her arms again. "If you want to know more, maybe you need to return with me."

"One godson who may resent me and one lukewarm acquaintance is not really the pull you think it is," he retorted with a sneer.

"Who is the lukewarm acquaintance?" Hermione asked, as her curiosity was piqued.

"You. You said you would visit me if I asked. And if you knew anything about me, you would know I would never ask."

"Well then, you would never see me." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his stubbornness. "I know you're a private man who would skin me alive with a single look if I turned up uninvited."

"I would."

Hermione gestured as if to say, 'Well, there you go then.'

"But after I finished glaring daggers at you, I would carefully and expediently remove the metaphorical knives from your body and make you a nice cup of tea."

Hermione's breath hitched at the unintentional image of Snape touching her body. He didn't seem to be aware, thankfully as she squirmed from foot to foot. He was just talking about stabbing you with his eye-knives. That isn't innuendo, Hermione Granger. Get your mind out of the gutter.

"Tea?" To be fair, his cup of tea the day before had been delightful.

"Or coffee, if that is what you prefer." His cheeks pinked slightly. "And biscuits."

"Why would you even want me to visit you?" Hermione couldn't take Snape out of the box she had stuck him in and it wasn't taking a monumental mind shift to tolerate a Snape that would not so much as agree to but tolerate her visiting him.

"You're the only student I have ever laid my hate on so thickly that also defended me to their peers," he said. "I am used to people hating me. I expect it. But you—you still sought my approval even after the cruel and untrue things I said about you."

"There you are!"

Snape had been moving closer to her but the moment Sarah appeared, he stepped back towards the side of the balcony and turned so his back was facing them both.

"Here I am!" Hermione declared wryly, trying to suppress the disappointment at being interrupted when Snape was uncharacteristically forthcoming.

"I've been looking everywhere for you—well, not the Labyrinth obviously," Sarah continued looking over the maze with disgust. "I didn't expect to find you out here…with him."

Hermione threw an apologetic look at Snape who tutted and then slunk off, every bit the Bat of the Dungeons. But he'd only gone a few steps when he froze.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing low.

"Severus," King Jareth nodded as he sauntered out of the shadows and then his eyes diverted to Sarah. "Lady Sarah, I wonder if you could spare me a moment of your time to go and visit your…friends."

"My friends?" Sarah asked, almost breathlessly. Hermione frowned at her friend's reaction to the King. She had gone from scornful to almost giddy at the sight of him.

"They are down in the formal gardens. I don't believe you saw the gardens when you last visited."

"I don't think so," Sarah said, a light blush tinting her cheeks.

"They are quite beautiful and well-kept compared to the Labyrinth proper."

Sarah walked to the King's side and left with him without a backwards look.

"What is that all about?" Hermione asked in a mutter. "She has spent nearly all day with him and her friends! Heavens above, but now she is acting like this is the first time she has seen them in centuries."

"I believe that His Majesty has made some progress with his quarry." Snape hadn't moved a muscle from where he'd paused mid-storming off. He turned back to her with a questioning look. "Is it so hard for your friend to believe you'd be seen talking to me?"

Hermione shrugged. "Aside from a brief synopsis of my time at Hogwarts, I haven't spoken to her about you."

"You haven't?"

"She knows you were my teacher and that you died," Hermione explained. "What do you mean quarry? Sarah wouldn't—she doesn't like—she's coming home with me."

Snape merely raised his brow.

"You're wrong," Hermione mumbled. "She wouldn't fall for his hollow flattery and vapid charm."

"Even his own kind falls prey to his charms," Snape observed cooly. "Your mortal friend poses no challenge in comparison."

"She is strong and has defeated him once before." Hermione meant her words but doubt crept in. She nibbled her lip as she saw the way she easily went back to the King's side in her mind's eye. "Is he compelling her?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't believe so. I think your friend may genuinely like him."

"And if she chooses to stay here?" Hermione asked, aghast.

Snape frowned. "Then you can still return to England."

Hermione twisted away to gaze back over the Labyrinth as she thought. Could she leave her friend here? Could she return to her empty flat? Would people ask questions? Would she get accused of having a hand in Sarah's disappearance?

"No one but you would remember her if she stayed here," he said softly. They'd only remember her if she was claimed the hour before her death. Or that's my understanding of it."

She hadn't felt him in her mind, so assumed he was just perceptive in his response. Hermione wrapped her arms around her again. "I can't lose another friend."

"She may choose to return with you. After all, she knows you far better than she knows His Majesty." He inhaled sharply. "You said Potter survived but did you lose Weasley?"

"Not Ron. Not like that. We lost Fred."

"That must be a heavy blow to that family," he said, soberly. "What do you mean, not like that?"

"Ronald and I—we were engaged," Hermione admitted. "And we called it off. Ron didn't die, but he changed after the war. His grief was heavy. He lost himself. Our split wasn't…it was full of animosity." She looked down at her white slippered toes. "We don't talk now."

"I see."

Hermione watched a goblin scurrying up the inside of a rampart down below and swallowed repeatedly to try and hurry her emotions away.

"What exactly are you rushing back for?"

Hermione snapped her eyes to his and narrowed them. "I have a life outside of Harry and Ron."

"I'd hope so," he said with a soft snort. "But you haven't disclosed anything about your life aside from your parents."

"Because you're famously forthcoming," Hermione accused, glaring at him.

"I am sure Potter filled you in on most of my life story." He sneered at her and she could sense he was on the verge of lashing out at her. Harry had filled her in but not everything. He'd said that even some things were best left private. "I don't know everything he knows."

"I find that unlikely."

"You judge him too harshly. He has grown up a lot and he only told people as much information about your life that would get you pardoned and no more. Believe what you will but I speak the truth."

Snape nodded, several strands of raven hair falling softly in front of his eyes. "I have always been an unfair man but I believe you."

Hermione had the strongest urge to brush the hair behind his ears with her fingertips. She wrung her hands in front of her instead. "There is not much to tell about my life. I have a job, a flat, friends and a boyfriend," she said, turning back to the goblin that was now hanging by his toes from a rocky outcrop.

"And what is your job?"

"I…I work at St Mungo's."

Snape raised a single dark brow. "You're a healer?"

"Not exactly." She shifted from foot to foot.

"You're not proud of your job?" he guessed. "Are you a cleaner or some other menial role?"

"No," she replied sharply. "Those roles are important too, but I am higher up the hierarchy."

"Than a cleaner?"

"Than the cleaners and the Healers."

"Tell me," he ordered.

"I am a Head of Department," she replied, cringing slightly. "Of Healing Potions."

Snape studied her for a few tense moments. "And this embarrasses you, why?"

"Because telling the greatest Potions Master in Britain that I am in charge of an entire Potions Department feels like me telling Harry I am a professional Quidditch seeker," she said, pulling her arms tighter around herself. "I hate flying."

"And you dislike potions?"

"Not at all, but I am not as naturally gifted with them as you are."

"But there must be a reason you have the job, Granger."

She nodded. "I work hard."

"But do you enjoy it?"

"I find myself wishing it came easier sometimes. I can remember all the potions by heart but I can't modify them or experiment in any way. And that's what we need. We need someone innovative and not just a glorified textbook reader."

"You have already made it clear to me that you are more than what I accused you of being. Don't detract from that now."

Hermione shrugged. "I know my limitations."

"And that's what bothers you?"

"I can never be as good at potions as you." She offered him a small smile. "You were right about me all those years ago. I took your words to heart. In other areas, I can think outside the box and think on my feet. I got the boys through the Horcrux hunt, didn't I? But potions still challenge me."

"Then why did you take the job?"

"I got my Mastery in transfiguration and one in Arithmancy but neither of them posed a challenge so when I got a job based on those two branches of magic, I ended up feeling rather bored and listless so I applied for this job, and I got it." Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I feel underqualified for it, and the little voice in the back of my head that sounds like you, agrees."

"There are many more dunderheads in higher positions of power than you." He stepped back up to the railing instead of by the door where he had been hovering. "I know it seemed harsh at the time, but it was the only way I was able to encourage you to think outside the textbooks within my self-imposed confinements...without giving myself away." He gave a hollow laugh. "Imagine the Head of Slytherin and the right-hand man of the Dark Lord being kind and supportive to a Muggleborn. I wouldn't have survived a week showing you any grace."

"Yes, but you weren't wrong."

"You don't need my approval, but I am sure you are doing the job better than anyone else."

"It should be your job," Hermione said, turning to face him instead of the Labyrinth. His dark eyes seemed to soften at her words.

"Perhaps you could hire me if I were to return."

Hermione laughed. "You couldn't work under me."

"I worked under two tyrants," Snape said, breezily. "Working under you would be a doddle."

For some reason, his words made her blush. She looked away rubbing her cheek.

"So if not Weasley and not Potter, who exactly are you courting then?" he asked in a casual tone after a momentary lapse in conversation. "Do I know them?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I'd say you know them quite well."

"Oh?" He raised a dark brow as she peered at him.

"Adrian Pucey," Hermione admitted. "One of your Slytherins."

"Pucey?" He frowned. "A Gryffindor dating a Slytherin? Has that ever happened in history?"

"I am sure there have been some Black and Weasley intermarriages over the centuries," Hermione replied, studying the Goblin City once more.

"Possibly." He took a deep breath. "I am surprised that you of all people would court someone who belonged to a house that wished you to become extinct."

"The Pucey family weren't Death Eaters and he has always been fair-minded, even at Hogwarts," Hermione said, on the verge of huffiness. "He is ambitious but not callous or cruel. He epitomises what Slytherins should be about, not what it became under your watch."

"The issues with Slytherin started long before I took over the house, Granger," he said, through gritted teeth.

"I am sure they did," she agreed. "It wasn't an accusation but an observation; I realise it was out of your control when you had to cater to the set of parents you had. Besides, we are more than our Hogwarts House. If you ask me, the entire system should be dismantled."

She could sense him relaxing at her words. "He was a decent student, honest and didn't resort to cheating as so many of them do."

"He is a professional Quidditch player so we don't see much of each other."

"Is it serious?"

Hermione considered the question. They'd been casually seeing each other as friends for nearly a year before things took a romantic turn. But they weren't at the stage where they would even consider moving in or marrying one another.

"I like him a lot and he has a lot of similar interests, but there are no wedding bells yet." She tucked her hair behind her ear and fidgeted with her earring. She was missing her acorn. "It is early days."

"I see."

They lapsed back into silence and Hermione scrambled around in her mind for something else to talk about but it seemed Snape wasn't quite done talking about Pucey.

"I hope you both find happiness with each other," he said.

"You're not going to warn me to treat one of yours well?" she asked. "Or warn me to stay away from him?"

"I don't need to. I saw how you were with your two friends." He rolled his eyes skyward. "You are loyal and caring in your own way so I don't believe Adrian will suffer in your courtship."

"Thanks, I guess." Hermione laughed at his concession. Snape merely nodded.

"I hope your example is the first of many in your generation to bridge the gap between houses," he continued, softly. "You know I had ideas of doing so myself, but I fucked that up."

Hermione started at his candid words (and the swearing) but before she had a chance to reply, he was speaking again.

"Of course, with age and distance, I can ascertain safely that we would never have worked together and Lily didn't owe me anything. Even my death didn't give me the right to demand her love."

Hermione swallowed as she became a bit light-headed. Perhaps the magic infused-air of the Labyrinth was getting to her. It certainly wasn't because Snape was opening up to her in a way that beggars belief.

"I have had a lot of time to think and I was a hormone-driven fool," he continued. "I gave into peer pressure to join the ranks of the Death Eaters and I lashed out at Lily saying something to her that I did not mean." He heaved a heavy sigh. "I hope you know I did not mean what I said, as I assume Potter would have told you how I lost her friendship."

Hermione nodded, feeling dizzier by the second.

"I did not mean it. You proved beyond a doubt that blood status has little impact on how powerful or bright you are," he went on, oblivious to how vacant she currently was. "I didn't mean it. It was…wrong of me to say it. And I know I can't take it back, but I hope that you don't think I think of you or anyone like you in that way. My motivation for joining the Dar—Voldemort was not blood-based, though it appears that way."

"I don't think I could ever fully understand how people can join a cult like that," Hermione said, gripping the railing as she started swaying. "But I am not you and I didn't have your life experience leading up to your decision."

"It was a foolish need for belonging and to prove myself. I was misinformed and ignorant and I let pride get in the way. I was too deep in it before I realised there was no backing out."

"Unless you chose death."

"Unless I chose death, which I did in the end, but at a more strategic point in time. I would like to think I did some good with my final years than if I had chosen to leave in those early days."

"You certainly did," Hermione agreed as her arms and legs started tingling.

"I was wondering if it would be appropriate—in light of you telling me that you are courting Adrian—if you would take dinner with me tonight?" he asked, almost shyly. She could have sworn that his cheeks were slightly pink, but it was increasingly difficult to know definitively as her vision became spotted and blurred until there were two Snapes standing there watching her. "I will respect your wishes if you were to decline, but it would be nice to converse with someone that has similar levels of understanding as myself. Not to say that the King isn't intelligent—because he is, but he spends most of his time in hedonistic pursuits rather than in his library. Which is a criminal waste if you ask me, and I know you would sympathise with my sentiments in this case."

Hermione let his words wash over her, but she found she couldn't reply and as she tried to voice her answer, she felt the entire world shift and then go black.


Sarah was frowning. Jareth was being less of a prick than she was used to. He had toned down his flirty nature and seemed to be taking her more seriously than he had when she first arrived. He listened attentively and he even pardoned her friends. Of course, he was trying to get her onside, probably for nefarious reasons, but she was finding his company to be…enjoyable. They had rambled through most of the gardens and now they sat by an exquisite lake where her friends were skimming stones (Ludo was merely chucking rocks into the glassy depths) and Toby was watching them pensively from a tree he had climbed.

"Rocks are friends," Ludo said ponderously. "Friends swim."

It had been so wonderful to see her brother again. But just because Jareth had orchestrated their meeting, didn't mean she owed Jareth an exploratory of her panties. Though she would admit that more often than not they would end up sopping wet after he sent her a smouldering stare or he touched her…or…that kiss. She pressed her lips together as she thought about how he had kissed her and how it nearly short-circuited her brain.

"So tell me, Sarah," Jareth was saying. "What are the ten top things you despise about me?"

Sarah deepened her frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it is no secret that you loathe me, so tell me why."

Sarah shrugged. "Your arrogance takes up at least seven spaces on that list."

He dared to smirk. "So you still need another nine?"

"Three."

"I am not counting my arrogance as seven separate issues, Sarah."

"To what purpose do you want this list?"

Jareth leaned forward, grinning widely. "Tell me ten things you hate about me and I will tell you ten things that you should love about me."

"That doesn't sound like a very fair trade-off," Sarah said, plucking a blade of grass that was almost so rich a green that it was almost blue. "I have no interest in learning about what there is to love about you."

Jareth didn't reply. He leant back on his elbow and crossed his leg over the other as he watched Hoggle shaking his fist at Ludo for getting him wet with a particularly large stone that he had dropped into the lake.

"You don't think, just because we kissed, that there is anything between us, do you?" Sarah asked, scoffing slightly. "I am grateful that you brought Toby to see me, but I have my life to get back to."

"Your life with no family and one friend that will eventually leave you to marry and have two children in a house of her own," he said, gesturing with his hand before resting it back on his knee.

"How can you possibly know that?" Sarah asked, trying to remain calm, but her lip curled into a sneer and her words were clipped.

"I can see dreams and time," he said, nonchalantly. "One star in the skies was all I had to move to see that Hermione Granger will fall in love and marry someone."

"Adrian?" Sarah asked curiously.

"No."

"Will you tell me who?" Sarah asked, poking him in the rib.

"If you tell me ten things you hate about me, I will tell you all I know about her future," he replied, sitting back up so his face was mere inches away from hers and his warm, fresh breath was fanning across her cheek.

"Fine." Sarah held out her ten fingers in front of her. "One, you are too pushy." She closed one finger.

"I prefer the word, determined."

"Two, your pants are too tight," she said, crisply. "It leaves nothing for the imagination."

"Why are you wanting something left for your imagination, Sarah?"

She ignored him. "Three, your hair is atrocious."

"Sarah, you go too far."

"Four, you are morally grey, so I would never know if your values match mine."

"I—"

"Five," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and lowering one hand. "You seem preoccupied with sex and in my experience, that means one woman will never do and I can't abide cheaters."

"Well, I—"

"Reason number six is the fact that you are a king and as such, our ethics and morals and values will never align, let alone our politics."

"That's—"

"Seven!" she cried over the top of his protestations. "You probably don't have an honest bone in your body, given the number of tricks you played on me in your Labyrinth."

"That was part of a game," he replied, seemingly pleased to have got one of his rebuttals in.

"Eight." She ticked off another finger and tapped repeatedly against the next finger as she stalled for time. She only needed another three reasons and was assured this would have been easier than it looked. She wracked her brain, looking for a decent reason that wasn't just his arrogance. She clicked her tongue as he gave her a smug look.

"Are you struggling there, Sarah?"

"Not at all," she said. "I am just trying to find another three reasons to hate you out of the myriad of ones to choose from. I wouldn't want to offer you a reason that isn't up to par."

A lot of it boiled down to his arrogance. He was attractive, a charmer, and a good kisser and she was attracted to him. But perhaps that was reason enough to hate him.

"Number eight is that despite what is sane or rational, I am attracted to you," she admitted. "And I will never know if that is genuine or magic."

"I have never compelled you, Sarah."

"No, but you have drugged me and you have trapped me in my own mind," she pointed out. "Yes, it was a game before you say anything but even you could have played fair and still had a sporting chance at not losing."

"I didn't lose."

"You fucking well did," Sarah cried, incredulously.

"I may have lost the game, but I didn't lose completely," he replied, crossing his legs and tucking his hands under his elbows. "I got to send you back to your world, unscathed and with your brother. I consider that very fortunate because if you had accepted my offer, you wouldn't have ever chosen me freely."

"And who says I would ever choose you now?"

He tapped his nose. "Statistically speaking, the chances are higher because you won."

"Nine," she said, getting them back on track. "You don't ever think of anyone but yourself."

"I spend a lot of time thinking of you."

"Only in how it impacts you, Jareth."

"I think about my subjects," he said. "And occasionally, my ex-wife."

"Ex-wife?" Something uncomfortable flared in her stomach.

"I am centuries old, Sarah. Do you think I have spent all this time alone?"

"I imagined you would have flitted from bed to bed," she replied tartly.

He chuckled. "Aganantha was never Queen as you would be once your Aboveground life is forfeit. She was merely a princess, never anything more." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he drew his lips into thin lines.

"Ten," Sarah replied, torn between her curiosity and not wanting to give him an inch. "You are centuries old."

"And how is that a reason to hate me?" Jareth asked, placing a fingertip on her chin and tilting her face towards him.

"I have lived but very little compared to you," she said, heavily. "I have no ex-wives or ex-husbands. I have very little life experience to draw upon as you do. As interesting as I am, you would soon be bored with me."

Silence followed this statement and for once he did not attempt any refutation. Instead, he stood and dusted off his pants before striding out of the shadow of the tree. There Sarah saw a white, wispy spectral that looked like a doe.

It opened its mouth and the voice of Jareth's Healer spoke. "Miss Granger has collapsed. I have taken her to the healing chambers."

The doe vanished and Jareth looked alarmed.

"Hermione," Sarah breathed.

"I shall take you to her," Jareth said, holding out his hand.


A/N: The allusion to a fierce chicken is a nod to the wondrous Lixxle's Rosalinda (alluded to with her permission).

Yes, Hermione has a boyfriend just to throw a spanner in the works. And Sarah is falling a little too far too fast. Hmmm.