Propensity and the Chaotic Pendulum.
Impassive.
A/N: Thanks for reviews. I always appreciate them. Wink, wink.
Weeks passed in which Hermione didn't leave the Muggle world. She didn't use magic, didn't send owls, and promptly burned each letter Dumbledore sent by Muggle post. She wanted nothing to do with Dumbledore, she told herself. Nor with Snape. Not at all.
Even as she thought she'd never like to see him again, she was devising ways that she could see him again. It wouldn't do to just show up at Hogwarts--not when she didn't care to face Dumbledore. And she couldn't easily show up in Hogsmeade or even Diagon Alley. She was sure the Malfoys had a price on her head by now. She had been married to Draco for less than a full day before Albus Dumbledore had shown up and taken her away.
My entire world is ruined, she thought at least four times a day. She wanted to see Snape. She had to see Snape. She had to know more. His version of events had just raised more questions--like why had he chosen to express his feelings for her by raping her? Surely he could have simply asked her out to dinner?
She wasn't going to pretend not to be angry with him. Of course he'd hurt her. But over the course of her seven years at Hogwarts--not to mention the terse relationship she had with her parents--she had learned that you can love people even after they hurt you. Take Harry and Ron. They had always shunted her aside, but she loved them just the same. At the thought of Harry, her insides gave a guilty squirm. She hadn't given up the search for Harry, per se, but she hadn't exactly done anything lately, either. She'd holed up in her parents' house, taking care of the long-neglected garden, dusting her father's library. Her parents continued to work full time, but made it clear that Hermione could stay as long as she needed. Although they didn't have all the details, they knew she had been in a terrible altercation with powerful Wizards. Hermione couldn't imagine telling her mother and father that not only had she been raped, but she found she was rather infatuated with the man who had done it.
Not to say that I enjoyed it, she reasoned to herself. I most certainly didn't. But Snape himself didn't enjoy it. So can I really be angry?
-----
Dumbledore looked up at Snape sadly. "She has yet to return any of my owls or post letters," he explained. Snape sighed impatiently.
"Let's just Apparate out there and get her, then. There are greater things at stake than her feelings," he spat.
"Severus, please. We must make allowances. You, especially, should be making allowances, as I believe it is your fault she has retreated from us all." Dumbledore's voice was biting. Since Snape had returned, he had chosen to divulge a similar account of events to Dumbledore. He left out the crude details, of course, but made sure Dumbledore understood.
Albus had been suitably shocked. He had thought Snape had been placed under Imperius by the Death Eaters--when he appeared in Malfoy Manor to rescue Severus and Hermione, he hadn't expected to find Snape was in his right mind--and he wasn't. He had remained in a state of catatonia, occasionally mumbling to himself or fumbling through his pockets, as Hermione spilled the whole tale in one confused and wounded breath. Dumbledore's heart had nearly stopped when she had said the word, "raped" and his eyes had instinctively gone to Severus. He had not reacted to this admission, merely stared at the floor.
As Dumbledore had experience with those coming out from under Imperius, he had tried his best to be gentle with Snape. He had just assumed that Severus Snape would never have harmed Hermione, no matter how little he cared for her.
It became alarmingly clear, as Snape continued to bow and allowed Miss Granger to hurl abuse at him without even a snapping comeback, that Dumbledore was wrong--Snape had in fact acted of his own accord.
This fact alone sent rage boiling through Dumbledore's veins--but something in Severus' demeanor forced him to allow the man to explain himself--or try, anyway. Dumbledore had always been a giver of second, third, fourth chances.
After learning the sordid details, Dumbledore was even less pleased with Snape. Now he understood that not only was Hermione in love with Severus, but Severus was in love with Hermione.
I couldn't have hand-picked a less desirable situation, Dumbledore lamented to himself. He knew Hermione wanted to find Harry, but he also knew that Snape could give a flying lemon drop what happened to the boy. Voldemort had long since disappeared--not been defeated, admittedly, but no one knew where he was at any rate. His Death Eaters were still active, but no one had been killed in years. It was one of the most peaceful times of Dumbledore's life. He knew Harry would turn up. He couldn't be in mortal peril or they would all know it--Fawkes had disappeared along with Harry, meaning that the young Mr. Potter had a very faithful and magical stalker.
Nevertheless, it would suit him nicely if he knew where Harry--and his bird--had gotten to. Hermione would be endlessly helpful in this endeavor, but as she had not seen fit to go back to work since her ordeal, she was of no use. This only increased Dumbledore's displeasure with Snape. Especially since the situation had taken a much more perilious turn of late--another of Hermione's good friends had suddenly gone missing. Ron Weasley was admittedly less important in the grand scheme of things, but Dumbledore didn't want any of his Order members missing--particularly ones so central to operations. Ron wasn't an Auror, true, but he was pretty good at Quidditch. Never good enough to play for a national team, but he had come back to Hogwarts to take over Flying lessons after Madam Hooch's retirement.
The disappearance of a Hogwarts professor could not be ignored for long--soon there would be students to answer to, then parents, then the general Wizarding community. They couldn't have a panic arise. They needed Miss Granger, and they needed her now.
-----
"Hermione, dear, there were three more letters for you today," her mother called. Hermione pulled her pillow over her head. She didn't care. She really didn't. Of course, there was this nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach--but she didn't care. They could all sod off. They really could.
Hermione nervously opened the first envelope a few minutes later. It was addressed in Dumbledore's thin script, but she knew Snape wasn't past disguising his handwriting to get to her. Then again--why would he want to talk to her? It was probably all just as well to him that she'd gone off. Nothing more to remind him of what he'd done. He could return to his days of snarking at students and being thoroughly disdainful of everything around him. Snape didn't need anyone with half-witted ideas about love interrupting his work.
She unfolded the paper with dread, and was somewhat relieved to find Dumbledore's handwriting on the parchment. 'Miss Granger. It is imperative that you come to Hogwarts. There is a very urgent matter with which you would be of limitless help. Professor Snape has agreed not to see you, if you wish it so. There is much I must explain to you and much more we must discuss. Please answer by owl, if possible, and I will arrange a time for an envoy to pick you up. Albus.'
Hermione crumpled the parchment with a sigh. How could she ignore that? Obviously something had gone horribly wrong. All at once, it came to her. "Ron," she muttered. She immediately flew into action, packing her trunks, hurriedly telling her parents where she was going. She left the trunks by the front door and ran as fast as possible to the Leaky Cauldron. She huffed her way into Diagon Alley, the only place she knew to find an owl. She scrawled, "Dumbledore, I'll be coming. Please tell me when." and hastily sealed it. As the owl soared off into the sky, Hermione felt someone sidle up next to her. She gave a gasp of recognition and suddenly collapsed.
Surprised cries of the witches around her did nothing to bring her from her state of unconsciousness. Someone had the sense to lift her up and carry her towards the nearest shop, where she was fanned, water splashed upon her face. She did not wake, however. She merely stayed completely still, her breathing shallow.
I seem to have fallen into a pool of shadows, she thought. But how can that be? You can't fall into shadows, they aren't actual substances, after all. That's a curious thought. Look at the darkness. I don't know if I have ever seen such complete darkness before.
"'ere now, what's all this?" came a curious and gruff voice from outside the crowd of spectators. Rubeus Hagrid parted the crowd and gave a short gasp when he saw Hermione, sprawled unconscious on a tabletop. He gently collected her into his arms, rather like a sack of potatoes, and headed out into Diagon Alley. He would get her back to Hogwarts safely, he told himself. No matter what.
I am flying. I am flying in a rather solid cloud. My cloud smells a lot like moleskin and dirt---perhaps my cloud is close to the ground. Or even underground. Can a cloud be underground? I remember all the types of clouds. I like cumulus clouds the best. They are very fluffy… this must not be a cumulus cloud, then. It's not fluffy at all.
Hagrid plowed through the crowds in Diagon Alley. He was running towards Gringotts. Safest place in the world, he thought, safest except for Hogwarts.
It's cold. It's very cold and it smells like mold. Cold… mold… those rhyme. I'm here! I'm here in a cloud, in a cold moldy cloud that is NOT cumulus.
Hagrid gently set Hermione on a chair in the Gringotts lobby. A particularly mean looking goblin approached them. "Keep her safe," he croaked to the goblin, who looked quite affronted but nodded nevertheless. "I've got ter find Dumbledore," he added. The goblin nodded in deference; Dumbledore's business at Gringotts was never questioned. The goblin motioned for a trolley, into which he placed Hermione, and wheeled her away. Hagrid gave her a backward glance before leaving the bank, intent on getting back to Hogwarts.
As he entered Dumbledore's office, he didn't get to speak before four cries of alarm went up.
"Where is Hermione?" Professor McGonagall demanded, as if Hagrid had eaten her or something.
"She… found her…" he panted. "Diagon Alley. Unconscious, she was."
"Where is she NOW?" Professor Snape snapped from his corner.
"Left her… Gringotts. Couldn'ta risked bringin' 'er back, he mighta seen me," Hagrid explained, his breath finally coming back to him. Dumbledore gestured him into a chair.
"Who might have seen you?" Snape snapped again. Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet everyone.
"It came to my attention early this morning that Harry and Ron have indeed been captured by a Death Eater." Snape went slack at this pronouncement--surely he would have known if it had been his own group? But Dumbledore didn't look to him, so he kept quiet. "Although I have every reason to believe this man acted alone, and not on orders from any higher-ups in Voldemort's organization. From what we know, the Death Eaters have heard nothing new from Voldemort in years, now. Is that correct, Severus?"
All eyes turned to Snape, who stood formally.
"That's correct, sir. We--that is to say, the Death Eaters, have no instructions or contact with the Dark Lord."
"So, we must assume Draco Malfoy is operating on his own terms." A gasp went through the crowd at hearing Draco's name. Snape sunk back down into his seat. He should have seen this coming… should have known. Draco would do anything to be considered in the fold--he'd gotten Harry, almost had Hermione, and now had Ron. For a second, Snape imagined himself doing the same with Sirius, Remus, and Peter--that would have indeed been a beautiful revenge. One Draco Malfoy was not above desiring.
"I sent Hagrid to collect Hermione, who is in incredible danger. She not only lied to Draco and his father, she escaped from under their noses--admittedly, that was my fault."
Snape refrained from pointing out it was also Hermione's fault, for being so foolish as to ever entreat Malfoy's help with anything. She simply saw too much good in people, much like Dumbledore himself. McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Flitwick began talking in secretive tones, carefully leaving Snape out of the conversation. He sat for a moment, then approached Hagrid. "You say she is at Gringotts?" he asked quietly. Hagrid nodded. "Couldn't think of nowhere safer," he explained. Snape nodded and retreated quietly from the room. He would get to her first. If Malfoy had used the same spell he had on Harry and Ron, she wouldn't stand a chance.
Snape strode purposefully, but he was beleaguered by doubt. There was no evidence that Malfoy was using the Impassive Charm. Snape had used it himself; it was highly dangerous and not readily taught. Hardly anyone knew what it was, and probably for good reason. The Impassive Curse operated by taking away one's pain, leaving them neither unhappy nor happy, neither angry nor pleased--merely existing in a somewhat disconnected way. Thoughts would flow and not connect, all things would be regarded with no importance--one suffering the Impassive Curse could walk straight at an oncoming train and think, "That train is moving awfully fast. Cheetahs also move fast. Perhaps the train is a cheetah," or something of the sort. No sense of importance or urgency could be imposed upon an Impassive one--everything was rather intriguing and funny.
It would have been quite clever of Malfoy. All you had to do was place the curse and wait; sooner or later the cursed one would wander somewhere abandoned, perhaps chasing a butterfly. And you could apprehend them; given that they wouldn't care, it would not be difficult to do. As Snape headed for Gringotts, he only hoped Hermione had enough natural intelligence to counter the worst of the charm. Of course, given her recent state of mind, an escape from reason might appeal to her too much. Snape strode faster, bursting into the bank at top speed and demanding to see Miss Hermione Granger, on behalf of Albus Dumbledore. The goblins regarded him suspiciously and subjected him to fourteen tests before determining his intentions were honorable. They escorted him to a room hidden deep within the vaults, presumably some sort of employee lounge. Hermione was sitting upright in a chair, head lolling, giggling slightly about something. Snape's heart sank; it appeared to be Impassive, after all. He took just one moment to lament his life. Why does everything happen to me?
He carefully approached Hermione, casting a glance at his goblin escort that clearly said 'you can leave us now'. The goblin did, albeit with a huff of disapproval. Snape crouched down beside Hermione's chair and gently took her wrist. Her pulse was a little slower than normal, but not dangerous. He tried to get her attention by gently shaking her. "Miss Granger," he whispered. She didn't seem to respond. He sat back onto the floor and tried to think how he was going to get her out of here without being spotted. He would just have to Apparate, he supposed. Obviously not straight out of Gringotts--he shuddered to imagine the types of punishment the goblins had devised for that--but he could go straight outside and get away with her.
He lifted her from her seat but insisted she walk on her own. "Try to walk, Miss Granger. You haven't forgotten how."
"I don't want to," she answered, her voice somewhat lilting. Snape's heart fell even further into his stomach. Definitely Impassive. Damn it all. He couldn't carry her out, that would look altogether improper. He battled with himself for a moment, and realized he had no other easy choices. "Imperio," he whispered, pointing his wand discreetly at her. He then focused all his will on making her walk, which she did. He held his wand at her back and made sure he kept thinking, 'Walk.'
It was not an easy task, but they arrived outside the bank just as the sun was beginning to set. Snape lifted the curse and felt thoroughly ill; he hadn't used Imperius in a long time, and had not enjoyed doing it. He wrapped his cloak around Hermione and made sure he was holding her tightly, then Apparated them to the gates of Hogwarts. He was a little right of where he intended to land, and had to disentangle Hermione from an overzealous oleander shrub. Any other wizard would have let this mistake go, but Snape cursed himself. He wasn't paying enough attention. He was too distracted by her to take proper care.
He stood for a moment, holding her gently as she leaned somewhat into him. "I feel as if I'm dreaming," she said suddenly, closing her eyes. "It feels rather pleasant, I think… well, it felt pleasant a second ago… it seems to come and go," she blathered on. Snape was listening keenly; if she were feeling different emotions and was aware of feeling them, the curse did not have a very strong hold on her. "I wonder if this is really Severus," she said, poking Snape suddenly in the chest. "I can't really be sure."
"It's really me, Miss Granger. Now kindly try to focus and let's walk up to the castle." he instructed, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth he felt at hearing her use his name with such familiarity... Severus.
"Oh, am I at Hogwarts? I wonder if I will see Dumbledore. He's a nice chap… I like those flowers," she added, pointing to the oleanders. Snape shook his head and began to march Hermione determinedly forward. She lollygagged as much as possible, sometimes lapsing into total silence, closing her eyes and teetering dangerously. Snape kept a firm hold on the back of her robes and finally entered the castle with her. Dumbledore was standing, a slightly bemused expression on his face.
"Well done, Severus."
"Impassive Curse, sir," he explained as Hermione wandered up and gave Dumbledore's beard a tug. His face gave a twitch of amusement, then his eyes settled on Snape's.
"Mr. Malfoy was smart enough to think of this?" he asked Snape as Hermione wandered a bit away and giggled at the wall. Peeves suddenly popped out of nowhere. "I remember this one! Bushy Granger, book-nose Granger!" he taunted, bobbing around her head.
"Look, it's a funny floating man," she said with a lackluster excitement, turning around to face Snape. "See, Severus, see?"
Snape turned desperately to Dumbledore. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. "I've never seen anyone successfully cured from the curse."
"I have," Dumbledore admittedly grimly. "But it takes quite a bit of work. And some of the after effects are a bit... undesirable.One must be entirely dedicated to the recovery, and with all our efforts on finding Harry and Ron, I don't think it shall be easy. "
Snape tried to squash the emotion rising within him. "Despite the extreme interest I have in a manhunt for the golden boy and his best friend," he said sarcastically, "I think I can spare the time to help Miss Granger."
They both turned to look at Hermione who was now leaning dangerously close to one of the torches lining the corridor. Snape rushed forward and yanked her away as a tendril of her hair began to smoke. "No, Miss Granger. That would hurt you," he explained in a condescending manner, as if she were a child.
"It's pretty," she said idly, suddenly touching Snape's face. He stiffened and pushed her hand down. "No," he said again, feeling ridiculously as though he were training a puppy. Dumbledore gave a soft sigh. "Very well, Severus. I just hope you are able to keep yourself in line around a defenseless Miss Granger. Don't doubt that I will be watching your every move."