Chapter Seven

"The Battle"

Ten days. All it could take for Severus's life to completely change was ten days. The figure was somewhat disconcerting, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he felt somewhat insignificant, even though he knew he was far away from that description.

Could someone fall in love within ten days?

Before, he didn't think that that was possible in ten years. But he found himself rethinking his beliefs a lot lately.

It was somewhat frightening.

Sitting in Dumbledore's office, staring at a shiny silver ball on a shelf behind the Headmaster's desk with his arms crossed, he pursed his lips in frustration. The old wizard regarded him carefully, his long fingers drumming the desk as he observed the agitated Potions Master.

"Something seems to be bothering you, Severus," he said slowly, resting his chin upon the palm of his hand and propping his elbow up on the desk.

"No, no, not at all," Snap said with an edge of bitterness, shaking his head. "Being engaged to one of my students, having her placed under a curse, find out she's missing, and falling in l…out …it doesn't bother me at all. Why would it?"

"There's no need for sarcasm, Professor," Dumbledore replied with a frown.

Snape sighed loudly in frustration and buried his face in his hands. "I just wish this was over."

The Headmaster reached over and patted his young charge on the shoulder. "It will be, my dear boy," he said, his frown transforming. "You will soon be happy, you have my word."

"So you're going to call the wed-"

"Stop being a ninny," he said, sitting back with a bit of a chuckle. "You know that won't make you happy."

Snape sneered but said nothing. One small victory for Dumbledore, one giant step for Snapekind.

§

The Hogsmeade air was delightfully cool. Severus walked along, observing the ground thoughtfully with his hands shoved in his pockets, black hair carefully framing his face. Lost in a tapestry of different moods and trains of thought, his eyes scanned each crevice of the dirt and gravel, his nostrils ignored the tempting scent of syrup and orange from Honeydukes.

The bookstore was one temptation that he couldn't pass by. He entered the shop, the little invisible bell tinkling as he stepped into the heated air that was scented with the smell of bitter pages and age-old ink. A display of "Grimm's Fairy Tales, Rewritten for the Modern Lil' Witch and Wizard" was set up at the front of the store, the knight's cape on the cover waving valiantly in the wind as he bent over a sleeping princess. Snape ignored the books and pushed onward.

The only other customer in the bookshop was a crumpled hag who was buried in the Beauty Tips section, rustling through magazines and ancient tomes desperately. He turned into the next aisle and was confronted with a horrifying amount of Self-Help books, all sporting titles like What To Do When His Wand Won't Work and Being a Single Witch in a Wizard's World. Snape sneered and quickly darted down past the books, soon coming to the Potions Section to find that he already owned everything interesting that they had available.

With a loud sigh, he made his way back to the door, but he heard a loud hiss behind him. He turned around, expecting to see the Old Hag ready to harass him for being alive, but there was no one there. He spun back around and began to push open the door when he heard the loud "pst" again.

He spun back around, face livid, and pulled out his wand. There was still no one there. He craned his neck back and searched the walls for a possible portrait, but they were bare except for a glossy poster of Dumbledore engrossed in a Stephen King novel.

Then a ripple of movement caught Snape's eyes.

He approached the stand of Fairy Tale books carefully. The knight in the center book was staring at him, his hands placed triumphantly on his hips and his wavy, chestnut hair swept back from his face in an air most dignified.

"Why so glum?" the knight inquired with a lifted brow. The princess beside him grumbled in her sleep.

"None of your business," Snape smartly replied, preparing to turn back around and immediately leave the shop.

"Ah," the knight said decidedly. "A woman."

"No!" Snape protested. The hag snapped her head around and gave him a steady glare, and he tried to drain the color back out of his face. "I am not glum, nor do I have any problems with women."

"Right," the little man replied, smirking. "I know that expression well. It's almost always a woman."

"For your information," Snape sniffed. "I believe that I almost always have this expression."

"Ooooh." He nodded in understanding. "So it's always a woman."

Snape sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. "Fine. It is. Tell anyone and I'll burn every copy of you."

"That's not necessary," the knight said, folding his arms across his metal-plated chest. "What's your problem?"

Pain, extreme head pain. "My…betrothed…" he whispered, lifting his hand to press his fingers between his eyes. "…is missing."

"Ah, easy." The knight smiled. "Buy me."

"What? Since when do books start advertising themselves?"

"Since we were individually hand painted using models of real people. Very limited amount sold. We're quite valuable."

"And why should I buy you?"

"Because I can help you." A small smile crept across the disgustingly handsome man's face. "And if you buy me, I can't tell anyone your dirty little secret."

Before Snape knew what he was doing, he was pushing the book of fairy tales across the counter to a blank witch with a wart on the tip of her nose that looked vaguely familiar. She examined the book with lifted eyebrows.

"Ah," she said. Her voice was high-pitched and increasingly unpleasant. "Good choice. They're limited edition, all individually hand-paint-"

"Yes," Snape interrupted rudely. "I know."

The witch frowned but continued to calculate the price. With a satisfied ding, the register popped up a tiny slip of paper that looked like it had a few too many digits printed on it. "All right. That will be twenty seven Galleons and three Knuts."

Snape stared at her, horrified, his lip curling. "Excuse me?"

"Twenty seven Galleons and three Knuts, sir," the witch slowly repeated.

"That's insane."

She shrugged. "That's the book business."

Snape grunted and handed her the money. She gave him a small smile, revealing a few crooked teeth. "I'd have to say that I'd never think that this was your type of book, Professor."

Snape grabbed the collection of fairy tales and swept out of the shop as quickly as he could. Couldn't he go anywhere without being confronted by one of his former students? Anywhere?

"So, what's the problem with her, then?" the knight asked, voice muffled by Severus's sleeve. "Hexes? Unrequited love? Warts? All of the above?"

"Not exactly," Severus mumbled, continuing to wander aimlessly down the street, obviously not knowing where he was going or what he was looking for. Nonetheless, his dark eyes searched the buildings and people accusingly, looking for a secret that he didn't know existed.

"Don't tell me she's asleep," the voice said in disgust. "I got past the dragon and the thorns. But waking her up is the part I couldn't figure out."

Severus gulped. "Dragon?"

Almost in answer to his inquiry, a woman's high-pitched scream resounded through the half-empty street. A heavy rumble underneath Severus's feet felt suspiciously like an impact vibration. He heard footsteps racing toward him, his hair swept back as people ran by.

Someone grabbed his arm "It's a dragon! Run!" But Severus pulled it away and the young woman continued to sprint in the opposite direction.

A roar echoed through the town, and Severus continued on his path, curiosity obviously piqued.

"That sounds vaguely familiar…" droned the voice underneath his arm.

"Shush." Of course, Severus didn't need to tell the knight to be quiet to hear the dragon again, its roar was loud enough to deafen the dead.

A huff of steam billowed up into the sky nearby, coming from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. He pulled his wand out and started running toward the source. If he could find a few more wizards that were willing to help, they could take the dragon down…

Then there remained the most important question. Well, at least the second-most important. What on earth was a dragon doing in Hogsmeade? The reasoning was too complex for Severus to understand. It was like the Peruvian Vipertooth showing up in France, it just didn't make sense. Small towns didn't usually appeal to dragons. Maybe there was a migration going on? Unlikely, and they certainly wouldn't move to colder climates like that of the Northern United Kingdom.

Knowing my luck, Severus thought with a sardonic smile, it is a Peruvian Vipertooth.

It's funny how things work out, sometimes.

As soon as he rounded the final house that edged the land where the Shrieking Shack stood, he had his answer. Sitting lazily in front of the house, its green-scaled legs sticking out like a dog's, was the Vipertooth. Its eyes were closed and its head swung side-to-side as if was charmed by some inaudible music.

Dazed, Severus took a step forward, trying not to make any more noise than necessary. But of course, a piece of gravel decided to take that moment to stick to the bottom of Severus' boot and graze noisily across the rocks underfoot.

He flinched, closing his eyes and hoping that it didn't hear him. But closing your eyes when you're face-to-face with a dragon is never a good idea.

Unfortunately, Snape, even though he is a quite sensible man, didn't know this.

The smoke seemed to cling hotly to him, caressing his pale skin and pricking at the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck, the light brush of stubble that surrounded his mouth. His eyes stung even though they were squeezed shut, and he opened his mouth to yell but only inhaled a burning mouthful of gray, polluted air.

He fell forward on the ground, coughing and blind, and the book slipped from his arm. He heard muffled shrieks of "wand! wand!"

Severus groped for his wand in his pocket and found it. As it emerged, he yelled the first spell that came to his mind.

"Evanesco!" It was a good try, really. He used the spell often enough in his classes, there was no reason why it shouldn't work now.

Fortunately, it had an effect. The smoke in front of him cleared, leaving to his view the gigantic dragon shrouded in a haze of smoke, the eyes glowing ruby red through the fog. All was silent. Severus stood and wrapped his hand achingly around the book, silently pleading to it for advice. A snort came from the Dragon's nostrils, a magnified version of a horse's, and little spurts of flame shot out and vaporized in the air. Steam seemed to be rising from the scorched grass, creating an odd misty shimmer that made Snape's surroundings feel surreal. Something about it vaguely and disturbingly reminded him of a peaceful afternoon spent on the lake as the dusky mist began to roll in.

The ground underneath his feet kept his wits stabilized, which had already been hindered by inhaling the thick smoke and torn apart by a stressful ten days.

"You can do more than that, dimwit," the little voice said from his side. The book fell to the ground as he shot out his wand arm and said the next thing that came to his mind, a curse that was a little more familiar than it should have been.

"Avada Kedavra!" The green bolt shot out of the end of his wand and stretched like lightning across the space between Snape and the Dragon, but only managed to hit it square in the forehead and bounce to the ground. The Dragon shook its head as if it was trying to shake away a fly and gave another deafening roar.

Snape fought off the impulse to clasp his hands over his ears and instead repeated the curse, aiming for the Dragon's mouth. But he missed and hit it in the jaw. Ineffective.

It took a drunken, unbalanced step toward him, fuming angrily. A narrow spurt of flame barely missed the top of Severus's head as he fell down to duck it.

The next thing that came to mind, however, was the last thing he wanted to think about at a time like this.

Harry Potter.

Dammit, Severus, he thought to himself. Now is not the time to be thinking about your stupid, arrogant student! You have a more important person to think about! To find!

Then he suddenly remembered. One of the Triwizard's tasks was battling a dragon to steal an egg. Potter had summoned his Firebolt to fly past the monster. There was no reason he couldn't do that now…

"Accio Firebolt!"

It was then that Severus thought that the nearest Firebolt would not be at Hogwarts, but at the broom shop, and the shopkeeper wouldn't be too happy to see his most valuable broom suddenly fly out the door. Oh well, he would probably thank Snape later. For saving his business and life, somehow.

It took another try before the Firebolt came to him, stopping in alert, ready, suspended in the air. He was just about to mount it when another spurt of fire burst from the Dragon's mouth.

This time, it did not miss.

Severus's leg caught aflame. He screamed in pain as it burned through his robes, taking its slow, sweet time to singe his leg hairs and begin to melt his pale skin. He dropped to the ground and began to smother the fire with his remaining robes, biting his tongue so hard that he could feel the blood rush through his mouth and the bile rising in this throat. Tears of pain pinpricked the corners of his eyes. He still clutched his wand in his hand. He kept flapping his robes over the injured leg, trying to diminish the last of the flames. His hand fell upon the discarded book, and he quickly and unthinkingly slipped it into the inside pocket of his robes.

He hopped up from the ground onto one leg and clumsily mounted the broomstick. He could win this, he told himself. He had dealt with worse things than dragons.

His right leg, in unthinkable pain that almost rivaled the Cruciatus, dangled limply as he kicked off, swerving haphazardly into the air. Another spurt of fire narrowly missed the already ruined part of his body. He clutched his wand at ready, threateningly, as he zoomed past the Dragon to the Shrieking Shack. He doubled back after almost crashing into one of the windows. Hiding in a building would do no good, it would be even an easier death trap as the Dragon could easily set it on fire.

Snape swept past the backside of the monster, teeth clenched in pain, and lingered over its head, looking for the best part to strike. There was no where on the head that would deem a soft enough spot of impact, the best parts to aim at were either the inside of the mouth, the belly, and the souls of the feet. There was no way he would be able to get underneath the Dragon, it's stomach loomed closely to the ground on short legs, and each foot was placed firmly on the ground. He examined the crown of the head carefully, trying to see if there were any ear holes into which he could project a curse.

It was then that he found something interesting.

No, not that it had ear holes. Which it did, actually, but that's not what caught his attention.

It was what was above one of them.

The dragon was purely green, except for this spot just above its left ear, where a black hourglass swept past and glimmered dimly in the smoke-filled day. The hourglass was knotted in the center, as if it were in the shape of a…

A bow.

Snape flew even closer, examining it carefully, and the Dragon gave off a groan in frustration that its plaything had disappeared.

Snape approached so closely that he could reach out and touch the dark scales. It was then that he gave the dragon a swift kick in the eye with his good foot.

"UMBRIDGE!"

The roar stopped, and Severus could have sworn that he heard an irritated sniffle.

"Umbridge," Severus said, more quietly but even harsher than previously. "I demand that you show yourself immediately."

The Dragon suddenly seemed to shrink away from underneath him, until it had disappeared. No, it hadn't disappeared, it was cloaked behind a thick curtain of smoke. With a muttered evanesco the smoke vanished and there stood the sniveling, toad-faced witch, rubbing her eye furiously, and a little flame licking at the corner of her robes was quickly squelched. Severus flew down to the ground to face the something-that-rhymes-with-witch squarely, remaining on the broom so that he didn't fall downward from his injured leg.

"What is this?" He demanded, unraveling bandages from the end of his wand. They wrapped themselves firmly around his burned leg and he hissed in pain. "Why did you attack me? And what are you doing here?"

"Hem, hem," Umbridge said in annoyance, peering up at him with large, bulging eyes. "I believe that is my own business, Professor."

"About as much your business as it is mine, seeing that I almost lost my life thanks to a little psychotic streak of yours."

Insulted, Unbridge began to draw out her wand, but Severus had already beaten her to it. He held it so it pointed at her heart and glared at her with an uplifted eyebrow.

"I'm not afraid to use Unforgivables," he muttered.

She suddenly looked nervous. "I have to report you to the Ministry! Using Unforgivables on a defenseless witch-"

"HA! About as defenseless as a Dragon. Tell me, was this Animagus form currently acquired, or did you use the illegal dragon model after you left the Ministry? I'm sure Fudge is dying to hear about his former favorite's little banned activities."

Umbridge swallowed, obviously feeling threatened. She cleared her throat again, making Snape cringe. "I will report the curses that you use," she said, her voice heightening in pitch. "And you will go to Azkaban for this!"

"You can't report me if you're dead," Snape replied, pressing the wand to her forehead. "And no one can see us in this nice little smoke box that you've created. Rather clever if I do say so, myself."

Snape knew that he didn't need bother to ask her her motives for such odd doings. She was crazy, she always had been. She didn't need motives. It was probable that doing this to him for the same reason that he had ruined his wedding: for fun. The woman, if she could even be called a woman, was insane. It must have been a childhood trauma of some sort, maybe she was such an ugly child that her parents wouldn't let her live out her fairy tales, so she took it out on other people.

"Oooh, this is so illegal," she said in irritation.

Severus inaudibly muttered a tracking charm before she disappeared with a loud crack, disapparating. Snape sighed and groaned in pain as he lurched forward through the newly unoccupied space, landing on his bad leg and tumbling to the ground. Like a faithful pet, the Firebolt flew to his attention, settling in the air where he could roll onto it from the ground. He did so, trying to set his aching, burning body upright as he fished the slightly charred book out of his robes and balanced it on his uninjured knee.

"Well," he said in a dry voice as the knight looked up at him with obvious curiosity. "Now what?"

The knight peered to the side, looking through the leather cover to the Shrieking Shack. "Well, there's your castle right there."

"It's not much of a castle," Snape muttered. "What are you talking about?"

"Highest room in the tallest tower," he replied as Snape drifted to the entrance of the Shack, wondering how he would get in. "And when you get there, just do what you see fit. I'm taking my broad and leaving now," he added, picking the sleeping girl up in his arms and making his way toward the edge of the book. "You need your privacy."

Before Snape could protest, the knight and the princess were gone. He sighed.

The door opened with little effort and he burst into the living room of the ramshackle Shrieking Shack. It was just like how he remembered; the dust even looked the same.

He drifted on the Firebolt up the stairs, then up the next flight, thinking "highest room in the tallest tower, highest room in the tallest tower".

He dismounted the broom as he reached the second level. The doorways were too low to successfully go through in his current state of mind. He used the Firebolt as a walking stick and stumbled the many doorways to the end of the hall.

The door fell open as he touched the doorknob. He gasped as he took a careful step into the room. It was dazzling, completely dressed in a blinding white. A four-poster bed was placed in the center, with draping and blankets the color of fresh snow. Thorny vines from rosebushes snaked up the walls, and their pure white blooms burst open as if in celebration of his arrival. The sheer curtains at the windows fluttered in the breeze, which didn't carry any hint of smoke.

And on the four-poster bed laid the sleeping form of Hermione, her hands folded on her stomach like the last time he had seen her, dressed in the robes she had previously been wearing. Her bushy mass of hair was spread around her, scattered with random petals from the roses.

Barely daring to breathe, Severus approached the bed. Her knight in shining armor had arrived, dressed in robes that were half gone with a bandaged, burned leg and a piece of wood and a broom as his weapons. He couldn't help but feel a bit shabby in his surroundings.

She seemed to mumble something in her sleep as he stood by the bed, gazing down at her. Her lips were pressed together in a peaceful slumber, her eyes closed in ease and her features the poster child of relaxation. Severus's fingers reached for her warm, soft hand and took it into his, relishing her touch after what seemed like an eternity without her.

He stared at her eyelids, wishing above all wishes that they would open again so he could see her honest, brown eyes. With a deep, wistful sigh, the broom clattered to the floor and Severus bent down to give Hermione Granger the first kiss of his life.

§§§

Thanks to: KDarkMaiden, NoName (hm...maybe? :P), Snape's Witch (oops, thanks), Antagonist Len, Rylee Smith, Meriadoc / Celithrathien (hehe), Kirkasstone, Anarane Anwamane, Evanescence (when I was first reading your review you scared me for a minute. My mind automatically put the two lines together and I read "what a horrible chapter!" until I read it in full. Stupid brain), Akasha Ravensong, Piggie, kik1324234, pineapple (argh, I was thinking eight dollars but than I changed it. Oh well), little-lost-one, Thunder-Goddess-905, Lady Shadowlight , Aindel S. Druida, the soul cage (mmm...Snahp), DarkShadowFlame (well...I guess this chapter answers most of your questions!), Zephyre (thank you. And yes, I like my Snapes just a bit snarky. They're better that way), Anarane Anwamane (again), Music/ Atropos (ooh, Johnny Depp), Lacewing, and Beccs!

The French in the last chapter meant:

"J'espère que vous vous amusez!" - I hope that you enjoys yourselves!

"Ah, je vois. D'accord, vennez, s'il vous plaît." - Ah, I see. All right, come with me, please.

"Oh, j'ai oublié. Ici." - Oh, I forgot. Here.

"Ne dérangez pas, s'il vous plaît." - Do not disturb :)

I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I was suffering from extreme writer's block on this story. Last chapter coming soon (hopefully)!