Mephistopheles
By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)
Chapter 5- Beneath These Thorns
She awoke with a jerk many hours later. The entire room was dark. She blinked in confusion. Why was she awake when she felt so tired? Listening to the sound of the rain hitting the roof and her window, she deduced the storm outside had roused her. She settled back to sleep again. Just as her breathing deepened, she heard the noise that had taken her from sleep again. It was a voice.
Snape was talking in his sleep. He sounded distressed.
Heaving herself from the cozy bed, she made her way from her room. The sounds echoed in the hallway, so she followed them. Upon leaving her room, her eyes were startled by a flash of white light, illuminating the house in a seemingly fluorescent blast before it darkened just as quickly. Lightening… she prepared herself for the thunderous crash that would resonate after it. Glancing around her, she was suddenly reminded of her great-grandmother's house.
It had been a vast, Victorian manor and at night, the shadows liked to play tricks on her seven year-old mind. Many terrified nights had passed with Hermione afraid to move from her bed. The nightlight in her room had only escalated her fear and offered her no protection. Eventually, her parents had capitulated to her childish fears and let her sleep in their room.
God, I miss them, she thought.
Snape's voice only added to the frightening ambience of the house. She followed the sounds until she found the room they were coming from. She tried the door. It was locked.
Figures that Snape would sleep with his door locked. She cast "Alohomora" and entered the room. All her earlier irritation with the man vanished upon the sight of him thrashing on the bed, muttering words she couldn't make out and gasping as though he was running a marathon. The sheets were wrapped tightly against his naked torso and his simple black pants were bunched in various places. This man hardly represented her former professor.
"Snape…" she called. When he remained unmoved from her voice, she raised her voice, "Professor Snape. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."
The man whimpered, a sound she never thought she'd hear from him. It scared her. The idea of a man like Snape being so utterly terrified in his subconscious was unnerving. She wondered briefly if he was dreaming about the room. Placing a hand on his bare chest, she shook him.
"Snape! Wa…"
She found herself suddenly jerked beneath his form, his wand pointed at her throat and his eyes wild and unfocused. His hand was clamped painfully around her wrist. Acting totally on impulse, she reached her free arm back and threw her fist full force at Snape's cheek.
The man grunted, his form tensing for a moment as he squeezed his eyes shut. She felt him steadily draw long breaths as he hoisted himself off of her and buried his head in his hands. He was shaking.
"What are you doing here?" He asked unsteadily.
"You woke me up."
"It's raining…" he said after a long silence as he looked out the window. Though she couldn't explain why she did it later, she crawled to his body and gave him a fierce hug. He turned to her, placing his arms around her waist and reciprocated the gesture. As he buried his head in the crook of her neck, she whispered that everything was going to be okay, prompting him to hold her tighter. They both knew it was something she couldn't promise but the words soothed all the same.
Tempting him with the offer of tea, they both released themselves from the hug. She wasn't sure if he was complying because he wanted her company or if he was too shaken to return to sleep. In either case, the candles were lit and a pot brewed. Two cups found their way to the table where she and Snape sat, each taking long sips.
"Were you dreaming about the room?" She couldn't help but ask. He shot her a questioning look and she continued, "The room in the Department of Mysteries… where you were." At his look of confusion, she asked, "Do you remember where you were? Do you remember me rescuing you?"
Snape shot her a dark look and said, "You can take the human brain out of the body and talk to it… but it won't hear you. You can even poke it and it won't feel it. You see, Miss Granger, the mind needs the body as a buffer to interpret the signals. Without it, everything is simply static, so to say."
"Do you remember anything at all?"
"I remember being…" he sighed heavily, "very fearful. Even after the procedure. Even more than how you would feel if a Dementor was staring you in the face. I would not wish that upon…" he paused for a moment, "my worst enemy."
Hermione knew the name he had held back… Sirius Black. Score two for Snape in the subject of tact. She decided to let the subject drop. It seemed to be something he was uncomfortable talking about. What he had told her, however, very much mirrored the same way she'd felt during the rescue. Knowing him as little as she did, she knew well enough that pressing the issue was only going to make him more adamant about not talking about it.
And, honestly, she wasn't eager to talk about it either.
"Tell me about the room."
Bastard.
"What do you mean?" She said, refilling her cup of tea.
"What made you think I was having a nightmare about this room?"
She weighed her words and smiled bitterly, "because I've had several myself since it happened."
"Did you run into Fluffy again?" He scoffed and refilled his own cup.
"If you think," she said, feeling her ire rise, "that you were just sitting in a labeled jar on a shelf you may rest assured you are gravely mistaken. It was like walking into the middle of a bad horror flick with a lucrative budget!"
Snape paused; briefly she wondered if he knew what a movie was. Then, however, he spoke. "Would you show it to me?"
"Why ever would you want to put yourself through that? You don't remember it. I'm glad you don't remember it…" she said, fighting her anxiety, "because I'll never forget it as long as I live."
They sat in silence and waited for the morning to come.
* * *
Few words had been exchanged between the pair as they returned to her home. They'd decided it would be beneficial if Snape were to sit down and try to remember every place he knew Albus frequented. Hermione had purchased a huge map and placed it on the wall of her bedroom, stating that that the only people who came into her bedroom would already know what the map was for. She'd used brightly colored pushpins to indicate where they needed to go -- red for the places they'd already been, yellow for the places Snape was sure he would be able to find Albus (in the event that he was there), and green for the places Snape recalled Albus talking about.
The map was covered. They had a long search ahead of them. Knowing the Headmaster, she and Snape had agreed that if the man were in hiding it was unlikely he would be in any of the locations marked with yellow.
But it would have been stupid not to check.
They'd also agreed that he would probably not be in any of the places Snape knew of.
But, again, it would have been stupid not to check. Snape was closer to the Headmaster than even Professor McGonagall; she'd led the first search herself. The Aurors hadn't visited even half as many locations as Hermione and Snape had marked on the map in one afternoon.
Hermione had already sent off an owl to Harry -- his position in the Ministry, combined with Ron's connections through his father, could possibly get them a listing of the places the Aurors had already searched. There was no point in searching the same place twice. It would only waste time.
Since long distance apparition was a difficult thing for anyone to manage, they'd divvied the map by area. There would still be a good deal of distance between many of the places but she and Snape would no longer be hopping from continent to continent. Thank Merlin. The biggest fear hung in silence over the pair, refusing to be spoken for fear of turning their already bad luck even worse. If Albus Dumbledore was not alive…
God save them both if he wasn't.
Snape brushed past her and took a purple pushpin from the case she was holding. She looked at him quizzically as he examined the map and embedded the purple pin onto the island of Malta.
"We go here before we go anywhere," he said.
If she were waiting for an explanation, she'd be dead before she got one; she knew that much. He just sat on the end of her bed, constantly letting his eyes drift over to the map and then to the pins he held in his hand.
"Do you want to go there now? It's not like we've anything else to do," she said.
He nodded and stood. They apparated from the privacy of her bedroom, Hermione taking his hand as they did so. Snape had a better idea of where they were going than she did. She opened her eyes to realize they stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean. She couldn't stop her jaw from dropping from the beautiful sight, even as the cold wind slashed at her face and hands.
For how much he wanted to be here, he wasn't looking enthusiastic in the slightest, though she wasn't sure if it was just another part of the act. He morosely guided her to various cliffs and watched blankly as she'd show pictures of Dumbledore to the residents, listening to their broken English as they told her that they'd not seen Albus. After she had asked everyone in several establishments if they'd seen Dumbledore, she looked at him with resignation and walked out of what seemed like the hundredth library they'd been to that day.
"He's not here, Snape," she said when they had some privacy.
"One more place," he said quietly. She got the distinct impression he'd left this place for last on purpose as they walked away from the town. They couldn't apparate without fear of being seen. After all, Snape was still supposed to be a mindless zombie and she'd seen several people take note of him. Although, she supposed, Snape did look peculiar following her as he did.
She halted when she realized where Snape had been guiding her and spun to search his face, seeing nothing there. He nodded slightly and motioned for her to continue.
Hermione walked through the gates of the cemetery, suddenly realizing why Snape had been so adamant about coming here first. If Albus were dead, he would probably be here.
Whispering instructions, he took her through the massive graveyard until they reached an opulent monument that stood alone along the outer gates, near the cliff. Unable to help herself, Hermione examined the monument depicting a marble woman looking up at the heavens; two empty plots stood to her right. She looked for a plaque and found one, covered in rust. Casting a simple revealing spell, she came upon a name she instantly recognized:
Here Lies Perenelle Flamel (????-1994)
Beloved Wife and Friend
"There is one more star in the sky tonight"
"Perenelle Flamel…" she whispered. "She was…"
"Nicholas Flamel's wife, I know. The plot to the far right belongs to Albus…" he replied, bowing his head for a moment. "Curious, though."
"How do you mean?"
"No one has heard anything from Flamel since his wife died. He didn't participate in the search when Albus disappeared. He hadn't been at the cabin for some time… I'd just assumed that he would be here," he murmured, gesturing to one of the empty plots.
"Do you think he could be with Albus?"
"It would be foolish to discard the possibility, Miss Granger," he drawled.
* * *
When they arrived back at her home, Hermione was surprised to find none other than Harry Potter watching television. He leaped up from the television and hugged her tightly. She pulled back questioningly and Harry, slightly embarrassed, took a step back and regarded Snape.
"Welcome back, Snape," Harry said kindly.
"I suppose I need to thank you, Potter," he replied with no malice, "According to Miss Granger, you were most helpful in my rescue."
Harry laughed nervously, "I hate to break it to you, Professor, but you'll have to thank me again." With that, Harry placed a large envelope in Hermione's hands and told her, "Every place the Ministry has searched for Dumbledore with detailed notes. I would have been here sooner but…" he trailed off, his cheerful face turning gaunt and pale.
"But what, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"The Ministry is in a bit of an uproar right now. One of the Unspeakables… a new girl…" Harry took a deep breath, "She was in the room… she died, Hermione… the rumors flying around are extraordinary… apparently there wasn't much left of her."
Her legs buckled beneath her and Hermione felt herself sinking to the floor, dimly aware that Snape's arms were holding her up. "Was it because…" she breathed.
"Allegedly, it was a mistake made during a routine check or so they're saying. The Ministry is claiming to be investigating the matter but according to another Unspeakable, there isn't going to be one. 'Hazard of the job' or some rot. Fudge has to know what's down there, Hermione," Harry said with all sincerity, "and he's covering it up."
She felt the blood drain from her face and bile rise in her throat at the implication of all she'd just heard. "I'm going to be sick," she muttered and stumbled to the bathroom. Retching violently, she couldn't stop her hand from shaking as she wiped the beaded sweat from her forehead.
She dimly heard Snape and Harry talking in the hallway but paid it little mind. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had gotten herself into, the fact that she could have indeed died trying to rescue Snape. Fudge was covering it up? Why? She was beginning to hate that word.
A harsh sob escaped her as she heaved again. Thin fingers pulled her hair away from her face as a cold washcloth was touched to her forehead. When her stomach finally settled, she turned and looked into the troubled face of Snape, who was kneeling on the floor. He reached an arm and placed it on her shoulder.
"Hush. It's all right…" he said as though he were talking to a frightened animal and pulled her into his arms. She put her arms around his shoulders and let all of the frustration, exhaustion, and tears loose.
He sat on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom, cradling her in his lap. He held her silently, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his shirt.
Author's Notes- Another night, another chapter! A massively huge thank you to my amazingly fantastic beta, Kate/Moaning Myrtle. Myrtle, you are like a gleaming mortal goddess and I don't know what the hell I would do without you. I want to give a vague thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I'm really amazed with the recepetion this is getting! ;)
Thank yous!
Lama- Thank you! And no, I can't type any faster… I meant to take a class in that! ;) I'll work on being more consistent!
AnnabelleElizabeth- Thanks, Liz. If you want to see the other responses to the challenge, check out WKITT. I think there are 4 up there right now.
Uvas1013- I hope this works for you! Thanks!
Lama- I'm working on it, I'm working on it! LOL! Your enthusiasm makes me smile. Don't let me get slack on this!