A/N: I haven't updated this in *ages* but as I haven't got any other
creative ideas at the moment, here is a new chapter! Hopefully I'll be
able to update again soon, so I hope you like this. If you do, as always a
review would be greatly appreciated!
***
Snape's face remained strangely calm, but his eyes were blazing as he continued to stare at her. Beneath her own anger, Hermione was felt briefly guilty for provoking him so unnecessarily, but the guilt was quickly overcome by what he would say next.
"Your anger is misplaced." His voice was even and steady; a flush was creeping up his cheeks.
"You sound just like Dumbledore!" She hissed.
"I would not bring the headmaster into this." He warned her. Hermione sighed heavily, looking away from him.
"You know what it is he will ask me to do," she stated quietly. "Please tell me what it is."
Snape shook his head once, emphatically.
"I cannot." He said.
"Why not?" She demanded.
"Because it is not my place . . ." His dark eyes drifted away from hers, and closed briefly. Hermione made a small dismissive noise low in her throat and Snape looked at her again. "Because you are not yet ready," he said heavily.
"I already know that!" Her voice was sharp. "Why don't you tell me something that I don't know?"
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she climbed to her feet in order to pace from one end of the small room to the other. Snape rose from his position next to the bed and watched her impassively, his face set and unreadable.
"Fine." His voice, when he finally spoke was taught with carefully controlled anger. "Fine. Know this then. When I placed Harry under the deep sleep spell I was unaware of the problems that we would have waking him from it. It has taken several months of research to discover the exact nature of the problem . . ."
Hermione harrumphed incredulously and folded her arms across her chest defensively. Snape sent her one piercing look of fury and then blithely ignored her, continuing his monologue.
". . . We now know that the reason that Harry will not wake up is Harry himself. He has effectively locked himself within his own mind, and is refusing to leave. He is behaving, in effect, as if trapped within a pensieve. He will not leave. We do not know why."
"You do know why." Hermione stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of Snape's still form. Her chocolate eyes pleaded with his dark ones.
"Do I?" His voice was bitter. Hermione continued to stare at him.
"Voldemort." She whispered. "What other reason is there?"
"Indeed." Snape raised his eyebrows.
"But where do I come into this?" She pressed him gently, feeling the closeness of the answer as it hung between them. "Why am I needed?"
Snape reached out and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. His hands were warm through the fabric of her pajamas and she unconsciously leaned into him, her head tilted up to his and her lips parted slightly. He bent his head towards her until their faces were only inches apart, their eyes boring into each other.
"Severus." She whispered. "Tell me. Please."
His gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth, and back again. Electricity crackled the air surrounding them, and Hermione was sure that her knees would have given way had it not been for Snape's arms going firmly around her in order to hold her upright. The feel of his body as it rested against hers, and the musky sandalwood scent that she knew was his, was intoxicating. Hermione struggled to keep her mind fixed upon their conversation when her emotions were bubbling so close to the surface. She reminded herself that she had promised Dumbledore that this would not happen, that she would not do this, but as Snape's mouth drifted ever closer her resolve evaporated and it was Hermione who closed the distance, leaning into him and kissing him hard.
She seemed to forget everything then, as for long minutes all she could feel, all she wasted to feel, were Snape's lips against hers. The kiss had not begun tenderly, but as seconds slid past his mouth softened against hers until they were barely kissing at all. Hermione heard him groan from somewhere deep in his throat and then, when she was fully expecting him to push her firmly away he pulled her much closer, hands smoothing across curves barely concealed by her borrowed nightwear. Hermione welcomed his touch, feeling the spark within her abruptly flare into something much bigger and beyond her control. Suddenly frightened, she stepped backwards, breaking their contact. Struggling for breath, she looked down at the floor for a few moments in order to gain her composure. What was happening to her? What was happening to them?
"I'm sorry." Her voice was low and husky. "I shouldn't have done that."
She looked up in time to see the weary resignation on Snape's face.
"No." He agreed softly. "We should not have."
The slight emphasis that he placed upon 'we' reassured her slightly and she moved quickly to sit in an armchair next to the embers of the fire. Snape sat in the chair opposite, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. The pale morning light combined with the weak firelight and he suddenly looked very tired. Hermione's anger and confusion faded a little and she sighed a little as she looked over him; seeing him through adult eyes was very different from being his student.
He was not as gaunt as she remembered from her schooldays, nor was he so unhealthy pale and oily. Instead, Hermione saw a pale middle aged wizard sitting before her who seemed to be weary of the entire world. His strikingly dark eyes searched the fireplace unseeingly and eventually lifted to meet hers. There was resignation there, she saw, but also resolve. He was going to tell her, she realized. He was going to tell her what she was doing here!
"We have learned that the only way to wake Harry involves magically entering his thoughts, much like Leglimency. You are aware of this practice?" Snape's voice was abrupt.
"Of course." Hermione was going to say 'mind reading', but guessed correctly that it was a much more subtle science that that.
"The problem that we have is that he appears to have locked himself into thoughts that involve memories of just one person. Someone whom he loved. He will answer to no one else in the conscious world." Snape looked at her expectantly, and Hermione tried and failed to quell the horror rising within her. "It is required that that person pays a visit to Harry's subconscious mind, and wakes him, so to speak, from within."
"Me?" She was compelled to ask, even though she knew the answer. Snape looked at her silently for a long time, his expression inscrutable.
"There is more."
"Oh, Merlin." How could things be any worse than this? Hermione was only beginning to understand the enormity of what lay ahead of her, of what she surely must do.
"The Dark Lord and his supporters know of Harry's condition . . . we do not know how. They also know what we know, about waking him. They fear the prophecy, Hermione, and what may come to pass if it is fulfilled. They are prepared to keep Harry in his current state, they know he cannot last much longer without intervention."
"Then they know about me?" Her voice was dull. "That's why they were looking for me?"
Snape nodded, his eyes held hers.
"The Death Eaters are under instruction. You were to be killed upon discovery."
Hermione slid her hands up to her face, unable to cry. She was shaking.
"Powerful indeed," she whispered. When am I required to . . . do this?"
For the first time, Snape looked taken aback.
"You are not even supposed to know yet. Dumbledore would not have you know before you are ready."
"I am ready now!" Hermione lurched to her feet and abruptly sat back down as the room span around her. Snape's smile was slow and mocking.
"You are not ready. It is not for you to say, little one," he tilted his head to one side, and stared at her thoughtfully. "I know you wish to do this, but there is time yet. Consider a while your return to this world. You have been away a long time. It is a muggle saying, is it not, that Rome was not built in a day?"
"But . . ." She balled her hands into fists with impotent fury.
"No but." Snape got to his feet in a graceful rustling of robes. "I will leave you now. I suggest you rest a little more, and think about what I have told you."
He walked to the door of her rooms, opened it and stepped out into the hallway without looking back. Hermione watched him until he closed the door and left her alone again. Her head was spinning and suddenly all she wanted to do was sleep again. The information she had so desperately wanted had been given to her and left her exactly where she began. What was the point of knowing, she wondered, if there was no opportunity to act upon that knowledge?
Climbing into the unmade bed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her quickly, tugging her into an oblivion where no thought was required, and not for the first time, Hermione found herself profoundly grateful.
TBC
***
Snape's face remained strangely calm, but his eyes were blazing as he continued to stare at her. Beneath her own anger, Hermione was felt briefly guilty for provoking him so unnecessarily, but the guilt was quickly overcome by what he would say next.
"Your anger is misplaced." His voice was even and steady; a flush was creeping up his cheeks.
"You sound just like Dumbledore!" She hissed.
"I would not bring the headmaster into this." He warned her. Hermione sighed heavily, looking away from him.
"You know what it is he will ask me to do," she stated quietly. "Please tell me what it is."
Snape shook his head once, emphatically.
"I cannot." He said.
"Why not?" She demanded.
"Because it is not my place . . ." His dark eyes drifted away from hers, and closed briefly. Hermione made a small dismissive noise low in her throat and Snape looked at her again. "Because you are not yet ready," he said heavily.
"I already know that!" Her voice was sharp. "Why don't you tell me something that I don't know?"
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed she climbed to her feet in order to pace from one end of the small room to the other. Snape rose from his position next to the bed and watched her impassively, his face set and unreadable.
"Fine." His voice, when he finally spoke was taught with carefully controlled anger. "Fine. Know this then. When I placed Harry under the deep sleep spell I was unaware of the problems that we would have waking him from it. It has taken several months of research to discover the exact nature of the problem . . ."
Hermione harrumphed incredulously and folded her arms across her chest defensively. Snape sent her one piercing look of fury and then blithely ignored her, continuing his monologue.
". . . We now know that the reason that Harry will not wake up is Harry himself. He has effectively locked himself within his own mind, and is refusing to leave. He is behaving, in effect, as if trapped within a pensieve. He will not leave. We do not know why."
"You do know why." Hermione stopped pacing and came to a stop in front of Snape's still form. Her chocolate eyes pleaded with his dark ones.
"Do I?" His voice was bitter. Hermione continued to stare at him.
"Voldemort." She whispered. "What other reason is there?"
"Indeed." Snape raised his eyebrows.
"But where do I come into this?" She pressed him gently, feeling the closeness of the answer as it hung between them. "Why am I needed?"
Snape reached out and grasped her firmly by the shoulders. His hands were warm through the fabric of her pajamas and she unconsciously leaned into him, her head tilted up to his and her lips parted slightly. He bent his head towards her until their faces were only inches apart, their eyes boring into each other.
"Severus." She whispered. "Tell me. Please."
His gaze flicked from her eyes to her mouth, and back again. Electricity crackled the air surrounding them, and Hermione was sure that her knees would have given way had it not been for Snape's arms going firmly around her in order to hold her upright. The feel of his body as it rested against hers, and the musky sandalwood scent that she knew was his, was intoxicating. Hermione struggled to keep her mind fixed upon their conversation when her emotions were bubbling so close to the surface. She reminded herself that she had promised Dumbledore that this would not happen, that she would not do this, but as Snape's mouth drifted ever closer her resolve evaporated and it was Hermione who closed the distance, leaning into him and kissing him hard.
She seemed to forget everything then, as for long minutes all she could feel, all she wasted to feel, were Snape's lips against hers. The kiss had not begun tenderly, but as seconds slid past his mouth softened against hers until they were barely kissing at all. Hermione heard him groan from somewhere deep in his throat and then, when she was fully expecting him to push her firmly away he pulled her much closer, hands smoothing across curves barely concealed by her borrowed nightwear. Hermione welcomed his touch, feeling the spark within her abruptly flare into something much bigger and beyond her control. Suddenly frightened, she stepped backwards, breaking their contact. Struggling for breath, she looked down at the floor for a few moments in order to gain her composure. What was happening to her? What was happening to them?
"I'm sorry." Her voice was low and husky. "I shouldn't have done that."
She looked up in time to see the weary resignation on Snape's face.
"No." He agreed softly. "We should not have."
The slight emphasis that he placed upon 'we' reassured her slightly and she moved quickly to sit in an armchair next to the embers of the fire. Snape sat in the chair opposite, leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. The pale morning light combined with the weak firelight and he suddenly looked very tired. Hermione's anger and confusion faded a little and she sighed a little as she looked over him; seeing him through adult eyes was very different from being his student.
He was not as gaunt as she remembered from her schooldays, nor was he so unhealthy pale and oily. Instead, Hermione saw a pale middle aged wizard sitting before her who seemed to be weary of the entire world. His strikingly dark eyes searched the fireplace unseeingly and eventually lifted to meet hers. There was resignation there, she saw, but also resolve. He was going to tell her, she realized. He was going to tell her what she was doing here!
"We have learned that the only way to wake Harry involves magically entering his thoughts, much like Leglimency. You are aware of this practice?" Snape's voice was abrupt.
"Of course." Hermione was going to say 'mind reading', but guessed correctly that it was a much more subtle science that that.
"The problem that we have is that he appears to have locked himself into thoughts that involve memories of just one person. Someone whom he loved. He will answer to no one else in the conscious world." Snape looked at her expectantly, and Hermione tried and failed to quell the horror rising within her. "It is required that that person pays a visit to Harry's subconscious mind, and wakes him, so to speak, from within."
"Me?" She was compelled to ask, even though she knew the answer. Snape looked at her silently for a long time, his expression inscrutable.
"There is more."
"Oh, Merlin." How could things be any worse than this? Hermione was only beginning to understand the enormity of what lay ahead of her, of what she surely must do.
"The Dark Lord and his supporters know of Harry's condition . . . we do not know how. They also know what we know, about waking him. They fear the prophecy, Hermione, and what may come to pass if it is fulfilled. They are prepared to keep Harry in his current state, they know he cannot last much longer without intervention."
"Then they know about me?" Her voice was dull. "That's why they were looking for me?"
Snape nodded, his eyes held hers.
"The Death Eaters are under instruction. You were to be killed upon discovery."
Hermione slid her hands up to her face, unable to cry. She was shaking.
"Powerful indeed," she whispered. When am I required to . . . do this?"
For the first time, Snape looked taken aback.
"You are not even supposed to know yet. Dumbledore would not have you know before you are ready."
"I am ready now!" Hermione lurched to her feet and abruptly sat back down as the room span around her. Snape's smile was slow and mocking.
"You are not ready. It is not for you to say, little one," he tilted his head to one side, and stared at her thoughtfully. "I know you wish to do this, but there is time yet. Consider a while your return to this world. You have been away a long time. It is a muggle saying, is it not, that Rome was not built in a day?"
"But . . ." She balled her hands into fists with impotent fury.
"No but." Snape got to his feet in a graceful rustling of robes. "I will leave you now. I suggest you rest a little more, and think about what I have told you."
He walked to the door of her rooms, opened it and stepped out into the hallway without looking back. Hermione watched him until he closed the door and left her alone again. Her head was spinning and suddenly all she wanted to do was sleep again. The information she had so desperately wanted had been given to her and left her exactly where she began. What was the point of knowing, she wondered, if there was no opportunity to act upon that knowledge?
Climbing into the unmade bed, she pulled the duvet up to her chin and closed her eyes. Sleep claimed her quickly, tugging her into an oblivion where no thought was required, and not for the first time, Hermione found herself profoundly grateful.
TBC