Disclaimer: Do I have to keep on at this point? My name is not on the cover of five books with Harry Potter. No one is storming my front door for autographs or demanding to see the next chapter of Book 6. All hail, Queen Rowling.
Chapter Twenty: Don't Provoke a Goddess
It was seven in the morning on Saturday and Mundungus Fletcher snored so loudly he woke himself up for the third time in forty minutes. He stretched uncomfortably and repositioned himself against the tree overlooking the Ashby home. Salicia Breston tapped him on the shoulder to relieve the man from another 8 hour shift.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "Traffic."
"What traffic? You apparate!" He let out another big yawn and shrank back into the pile of rags people usually mistook him for.
She snorted. "Long shift?"
"Yeah."
"Any activity?"
"No." This was their customary banter.
As usual. Nothing, no sightings, no Death Eaters, nothing. Some days it made them feel unimportant, and they wanted to ask when they should change strategies.
"She's not going to come. She would have already," he groaned. "Might as well ask the old man to give up. She doesn't want to be found."
"We can't think like that. We need to stay sharp, stay focused," the bright young witch said.
Mundungus' voice remained unenthusiastic. "Way to go. Good for you, since you're shift's on. I'm going to go grab some shut-eye." In their conversation, they missed the scene below, lastly only 5 minutes in a three month period.
Anyone could have missed it.
Hermione's head spun for a moment, her stomach gurgling from both the trip and hunger. When she opened her eyes, her feet were planted exactly where she wanted them, an inch deep in mulch behind Jake Ashby's house in the garden. Pressing her back up against the brick and squatting low behind the waist-high oleander shrub, she didn't feel terribly well concealed— in broad daylight. She stifled a gasp and crouched lower as Mrs. Ashby descended the back steps for work, and closed her eyes as if it would make her invisible to others. Mrs. Ashby zipped out of the driveway in her Mini, late for work, too distracted by the time to notice details.
The backdoor had been left unlocked and Hermione slipped inside. She was fairly certain her own house was being watched and felt panicky out of doors; she could see it from here. Crouched on all fours, not wanting to be spotted through a kitchen window, she felt a bit like a prowler in a house she practically grew up in. Hermione was terrified. This was civilization. Her heart pounded in her chest. Time seemed to stop as she saw the kitchen table where she'd shared a hundred meals here, movie nights… sleepovers. She had skinned her knees on the steps outside when she was nine and played four square with Jake's older sister in the driveway. In this house, Hermione Granger existed.
Jake rounded the corner from the den and dropped his cereal bowl in a clatter on the floor. His shout scared Hermione half to death.
"AHHHHHHH!!!!"
Hermione cried out, covering her head with her hands, still on her knees. Once they both stopped screaming, Jake could hardly make out the shape of the woman before him, she was… "Hermione? Hermione! Christ, it's you!" He reached out to her and she backed away a bit, still taking in her surroundings.
Her mouth gaped open a bit as she finally accepted the sight before her. "Jake?" She closed her eyes and crawled to him, yanked him down by his shirt tail into a fierce hug on the floor. He held her long and she dared not breathe. "You're real."
"Of course I am, sweets. God I've been so worried about you." She didn't let go and he held her for a long moment, rubbing her back.
She came to her senses. You can't stay here Hermione. It's not safe. You have to keep moving.
"You have friends looking for you. They asked me to call…"
"NO DON'T! Oh God, Jake," she looked desperate her eyes glistening with fear. "Please don't tell anyone was here. I'm in so much trouble." Her trouble was whispered and she looked ready to bolt. She could tell Jake anything, almost. Everything except the witch part. She would stay.
He heard her stomach growl. "Are you hungry?" he asked, walking toward the fridge, flinging all of its contents onto the table. Jake looked at the disheveled woman and took in her tinier frame. She was a fraction of the girl he knew. She nodded her reply, excited that he would make her anything edible, and licked her lips when she recognized the pattern of meat, cheese, and condiments.
"What will you have?" Jake asked.
"Anything that doesn't come in the shape of a nutritional bar," said Hermione, her eyes wide.
He was making one of his famous subs, the ones he made on movie nights during their summers. It was by design, enormous— and they usually split it. He nearly cried when he saw the wasted slip of a girl devour it a matter of minutes. Hermione ate quickly, knowing she'd make herself sick, but she was overwhelmed. She didn't stop to savor the lovely pastrami, smoked ham, the provolone— she inhaled it. She drank a glass of milk to wash it down and felt so full she knew no amount of antacid would aid in her recovery later.
Jake let her eat in silence while he studied his dear friend, she was practically family. Why was she in so much danger? From whom? Surely not from Harry, they were best friends at school— she talked about him all the time. Her hair was in a disarray he had never seen, and she was filthy. Beyond mud-wrestling-championships filthy. She looked like she had an inch of dirt on her face and there was blood… "You're bleeding! You're hurt!"
"Oh," she swallowed. "It's not mine. Oh. Oh! It's okay— not what you think. I was helping a friend who got injured." She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, empty plate in her lap, refusing to sit anywhere near a window.
"Hermione… What happened? Just tell me," he whispered. "I love you; you know I'd do anything for you. Where have you been staying? You look like a cavewoman."
She laughed. He was right. Clan of the Cave Bear, that's me. "I've been living in a forest."
"Without the aid of a tent?" Jake chided. She didn't laugh.
"Something like that. Could… could I use your bathroom?" she asked shyly, not wanted to impose. As if she had to worry.He was no stranger.
She dashed up the stairs and used his toilet. Real toilet paper. No squatting. She missed basic things. There were feminine supplies under the cabinet. The bathroom was modest and smelled like rosy potpourri. She saw magazines. It was around March 29th, and Jake had left today's London Times on the vanity. She flushed and saw soap by the faucet. Hermione opened the door to get Jake before he called anyone and he was right there waiting for her on the other side of the door.
"Still here sweetie." He gave her a wink.
"You said people were looking for me. Who?" She asked with suspicion.
"You're friend, Harry— and some older guy. Kinda tall, with dark black hair, pale and creepy. He's one of your teachers I think. He looked like he ate something sour."
"Professor Snape." She tried to suppress a faint smile. He looked for me. She felt a pang of guilt. People were worried about her. But they knew she was okay from this morning, it would have to do.
"That's the one. They asked all kinds of questions about you and where you like to go. They were really persistent, Hermione. Harry wants me to call him; he gave me a cell phone number…"
"Don't call him. Please, Jake. I'll think of something. Look, this is going to sound weird, but can I take a shower? I haven't had a real shower since before Christmas."
Jake gave her a look. "Girl, please. Shower." He handed her a fresh towel and pulled some of his sister's shampoo, conditioner and underthings from his sister's room.
Hermione set her dingy tapestry bag down on the toilet and began to shed the layers of cracking, yellowing rags from her body. When Jake returned with new things she was in a t-shirt and knickers.
Jake turned around embarrassed. "Hermione, I should let you…" he said choking. God, she's so skinny! He could almost count ribs.
She leapt out and grabbed his arm. "Don't leave. Please don't leave me… alone," she whispered. To his memory, Jake had never known Hermione as particularly afraid, timid, or shy. But she seemed more frightened than he could remember and it was different somehow. He couldn't deny it, she really was in trouble and he had to find a way to help her, if she would let him.
"Alright," he said worriedly. "I just thought you should have some privacy."
"I lost all modesty three months ago. Just… don't ask. I'm okay."
She peeled off what remained of her clothes and stepped under warm water—she felt it on her face washing away the dirt, exposing the lonely pains. Looking down at her feet she stared absently at the mud and blood pooling in the water where she stood, then knelt in to a ball and wept. How did I get here? The water grew too hot and beat angry red marks on her flesh, but she didn't care.
Jake intervened. Pulling back the curtain, he adjusted the water and put a tentative hand on her back. She sobbed. "I'm so…" she couldn't put anything into words.
"Shhh… It's going to be alright. You're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine…." he repeated over and over. God she was so bony, fragile. Nothing like he had remembered her. He took the soap and washed her back and arms, not caring if he got wet. Pretty soon there was water all over the floor and on his shirt, hair and shoulders. The bathtub was filling with water because so much dirt had clogged the drain.
After clearing the standing water he reached under the sink to retrieve a spray head for the shower. He handed her the soap and she washed, spending a long time on every square inch of her body until she was pink.
She held up a lock of her matted hair and said, "I'm doomed aren't I?"
He smirked. "Let's see what we can do."
Hermione bent back over and he sprayed her hair. Once her oily hair finally succumbed and became wet, they added shampoo. Working it in, they tried to free the grime which had managed to superglue dirt and mud to her long wiry hairs. She felt like Medusa, her hair had a life of its own. It might even be sentient, she laughed. Hopefully it wouldn't bite.
They washed her hair no less than three times. She towel-dried it and it was still a gnarly mess. To this he re-wetted her mane and added cream rinse, hoping to de-tangle the viscous knots in her briar patch of hair.
It was hopeless.
Hermione groaned in frustration as she tried to painfully force a comb through her tangled ropes.
"Hermione? I want you to trust me." Jake said calmly, his voice holding a hint of idea.
She couldn't see, and she was still hunched over, her dreadlocks obstructing her view. "What are you going to do?" She breathed.
Snip.
He took the pair of scissors from the drawer and whacked her hair off— short. It happened so quickly, Hermione could barely object, and she did object. She shrieked once she realized what was happening, and soon there was a pile of hair around her. "I like it long," she said angrily, her hands balled into fists.
"I bet even Rapunzel had limits," Jake scolded. He discarded her hair in the wastebasket. Jerking the shower curtain closed, she fumed… she could not glue her hair back… and washed again, finally stepping out of the bathtub a modest woman— quickly wrapping the towel tightly around her. She was clean and felt truly naked without the muck and dirt to cover her.
He looked down at her pile of clothes. "I can't believe you came from that," he pointed. She smirked and Jake could see at last a piece of Hermione in her.
"I don't suppose you have anything clean?" Hermione rolled her eyes.
That's my girl. "I'll get some of Yvonne's clothes." He left to his sister's room and left Hermione alone. She shut the door and opened the towel, standing in front of the mirror to evaluate her frame. She barely recognized herself. 'What are you going to do?' she told her reflection, but it said nothing back. Naked for all but the gold locket she wore with her name engraved on the back, she rummaged quickly through the pile of dirty rags and found the emergency portkey Luna gave her.
Jake returned with his sister's clothes and several t-shirts. Hermione slipped on clean underpants and low rise jeans, exposing the flat belly she'd never had before and slipped on a bra, she couldn't have worn at the Ball. The B cup fit fine, but her former self would've been spilling out of it. She slipped on the first shirt he gave her, the black one with no sleeves.
"Oh no. Yvonne is going to kill you. This is her favorite shirt…"
"She'd want you to have it. Besides, it's her fault she didn't take it to college with her."
It was black and had faded white lettering captioning The Grateful Dead on the front. It was so… cool. Hermione wished Bill Weasley could see her now, he would truly appreciate this. Putting on the clothes was like putting her own self back together. She wanted to feel more civilized though.
"What else do you need?" he anticipated, reading her.
"Do you have a toothbrush?"
He brightened and retrieved one from the guest room. She took her time and flossed as well. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror again; her chopped hair needed trimming— she hated it. Really, really hated it. She held up a bit of her hair and watched it shorten, frizzing out in the humidity of the bathroom. I look like a sheep.
Jake ran and grabbed a knit cap from the coat closet and parted with a leather jacket that hadn't fit him for a couple years. He also liberated an old black cardigan of his mom's. When she finally put on the rest, she looked like vintage Grunge at it's finest. Perhaps she needed tattoos and a few dozen piercings.
She desired one more thing though. Hermione helped herself to Yvonne's room and picked up a reddish caramel lipstick from her dresser. Now she felt human— woman.
The mask was back on and she calmly addressed her friend. "Jake, thank you." Her pecan eyes stared at him and he finally recognized her. "I've got to get out of here. No one can know I was here."
"But you just got here. Where will you go? Do you have any money?"
Hermione chewed her lower lip, becoming painfully aware of her cash flow problem. She had little Muggle money with her and had used nearly every Galleon she had that wasn't in Gringotts to purchase that bottomless bag. Jake needn't have asked and his fished his wallet out of his pocket and emptied it. "Don't say no, you need it. Go on."
She bit back the guilt. It's a lot. Probably all the tips he'd made in a week. "Thank you. Do you think you could drive me to London?"
In no time they were speeding down motorway, taking the M4 from Reading in his Land Rover, she laying in back on the floorboards. "Hermione, you know I love you, but isn't that a bit extreme? Who are you hiding from anyway?" He periodically checked on her in the back seat to make sure she hadn't disappeared on him.
"Jake, it's such a long story. Suffice it to say people are looking for me and I can't afford to be seen. I'm pretty sure my house is being watched, so don't go there. Don't worry, my parents are safe."
"They've been gone since last year," he said. Watched by who? Fuck, Hermione. Tell me something.
"I know, Jake. Just drive."
-----------------
Lupin was standing in Dumbledore's office after a shower of his own. The werewolf remained silent. He was still upset over his transformation that could have cost student lives, but perhaps more upset that he had let Hermione Granger slip through his grasp.
"No one was injured, Remus. Not even Miss Granger, and she managed to renew my DADA professor to full health," Dumbledore said with his customary irritating calmness. "I must make a mental note to thank her for that after we find her. At least this unfortunate set of events resulted in us finding out she was alright."
"I still don't understand why she is hiding, Albus," Remus said worriedly.
"I'm not sure even Miss Granger fully knows the answer to that. She may not be thinking very clearly."
Snape was furious. He had to get out of this confounded space or he was going to hex both Lupin and Dumbledore. "Perhaps she hadn't settled far from where she found you, Lupin. Let's at least check the forest to locate where she stayed," he grumbled.
"Maybe she returned to get her things?" Remus suggested and they were gone from Dumbledore's office in seconds.
They apparated and saw the old cave where the girls stayed the holidays. Wandering in a bit farther into the wood, Severus found the brook and followed it downstream. Remus worked back the opposite direction.
Severus saw a bush full of berries and a short distance from it, blood. Probably Remus'. He was getting closer but didn't call out. In the still moist earth he could make out the circular depressions left by hooves.
Unicorns. She told Remus they protected her, and he was amazed to see it for himself. Seeing her footprints leading away from the scene, he ran. The impressions were faint, would disappear in the grass and come back into view intermittently. As he neared the widening of the riverbank, he saw her cauldron, remnants of a fire, and wet clothes hanging from a stick. Attempts to make soap. Severus couldn't find his breath. She had lived here, in the cold, for three months, not half a mile from the other cave. Gods.
Something wasn't right about the wall he faced, the variations in the stone were almost too perfect. He whipped out his wand and muttered a quick incantation.
The cave's door dissolved revealing the shelter. Everything was there. She hadn't come back. Her tapestry bag was gone, but portable fires still burned around the bedroll where she slept. Snape was surprised at her meager living arrangements, but especially at the obvious collection of potions ingredients, and leftovers of her regular efforts at brewing— roots and herbs gathered form the forest along with the supplies Dobby had brought her. He saw her makeshift shelf from a piece of driftwood, and a couple of bookends, beautiful geological specimens with interesting mineral deposits. She had spent some time deliberately picking these out from the stream. How had she spent the time? It must have been lonely.
He made a note of her books, which were meticulously well-cared for despite her own state of appearance. She must have placed an anti-humidity spell or some such thing inside the cave, for it was dry. A basket of fruit sat in the corner.
It smelled horribly, but forced himself to walk in as she had done every day. On the floor it looked like she had been studying. A book lay open in the dimness of the cave, her notes scattered all about like she'd return soon to work on them. He bent to pick up the book she'd been reading and went slack jawed in realization of its contents. The title glistened when it caught part of the light— Revitalizing Potions for the Modern Age. It was his. And these were her notes. She had continued her work as though she had never left. He stacked them neatly, skimming as his went. Brilliant concepts, things they hadn't discussed last term. He took a moment to collect himself—Hermione had spent all of this time thinking as much about their work as he had about her. Though not in the same way.
She'd been plaguing his thoughts and he'd already imagined half a dozen ways he'd found her dead. But Hermione was far from helpless, she'd survived in a cave with no magic for three months, evading detection from Aurors, Death Eaters and Order members. No wonder Potter's cell phone hadn't rung, why more of their leads hadn't panned out. She'd never left— Hogwarts grounds was still the safest place to be and she knew it.
A white dove circled overhead, and spied the people below. Her usual charge she watched over had gone.
Snape could hear Lupin in the distance and finally called out to him. "Over here, by the stream…"
"Gods, Severus. Look at this."
"I know."
"She ran out of soap," Lupin pointed out in awe of the homemade soap cakes before him.
"And many other conveniences, it seems," Snape mused. He squatted and Lupin watched him pick up her things with a manner bordering on reverence.
"She'll be needing those things when she gets back," Remus said a little hoarsely.
"Yes, she will." She will come back.
"She had to leave at some point to get your book, though I'm surprised she could leave the forest without anyone noticing," Remus speculated.
"She could've had it delivered by owl," Minerva suggested, once they were back at the school.
"If so, then how and who would know where she was?" replied Remus.
"What did you find in the cave, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.
"Books, dirty clothing, a bedroll… a couple of food wrappers, potions she brewed, attempts to make soap, even homework from this term's syllabi, not much else." Snape left a few things out though.
Later on in the dungeons, he would remember that he found pieces of her in that cave— the signature of a beautiful, intelligent young witch who had carried on, doing exactly what she would have done had she been at Hogwarts. He sorted through her notes and found a tall stack of ideas based on his book. He also found her Bible and places she had marked for reflection, passages that discussed perseverance and strength during weary times.
Picking up several books of poetry, he flipped to several places she had marked and perused the works. Shakespeare, Yeats, Frost, Dickenson, Bradstreet, and Labé. He read a passage she had circled and felt an inherent pain he identified with long ago, but had long resigned himself to being alone.
As soon as I lie down in my soft bed,
trying to vanish into wanted sleep,
My sad feelings overcome me and sweep,
me out toward you to who I am wildly led.
When I suppose that on my tender breasts
I hold the darling face I longly tried
to find, for whom openly I've sighed,
I break, I sob, and then my soul protests.
O gentle sleep, O night of ecstasy!
Pleasure, repose, immense tranquility!
Let each might be an agent that will tie
me to my dream. And yet, if my poor soul
truly is doomed to play a loveless role
arrange, at least, for it to have its lie.
Louise Labé
It is a waste of time to punish yourself this way. Had she nothing better to do than to dwell on sadness and loss? Most of the poetry marked pertained to nature and tragic love—he was also surprised to see her attempts at writing her own poetry, though most lines were harshly crossed out.
One thing was clear. She was a woman in pain.
Snape didn't dream. At least that's what he told himself. Long ago, too many evenings were spent tangled up in sweaty sheets, nightmares filled with recollections of either his own torture or the regrettable pain he had inflicted on others. As a younger man he had spent a good deal of time escaping from those horrors by brewing Dreamless Sleep and other potions, later expending a bit of his health to break himself of the addictive habit. He hardly ever used them anymore, though at certain times potions with narcotic properties were considered a necessary adjunct to the job of being a spy.
He regularly made a habit of clearing his mind before he went to bed as he had taught Harry to do (though it had taken the boy nearly a year and a half to make any serious effort at doing so). Snape was an excellent Occlumens and as much as that meant shutting his mind off to others, he could also shut off his thoughts off from himself, and that was saying something.
This is not to say that he disassociated himself from things, though at times he had during bouts of Crucio. Snape was a very aware man, sure of himself, took a moral inventory. That is to say, he was both proud of his accomplishments and abundantly aware that nothing he could ever do would make up for his failures. Even still in shame, he did not cower from his fate but put back his shoulders and bore his responsibility like a man. Dumbledore was immensely proud of him, would even say he possessed Gryffindor qualities—though Snape would probably poison him for mentioning it.
Shutting his mind off at night did not prevent him from dreaming, though it did have the pleasurable result of waking up having not remembered a damned thing. After all of the hell, that was bliss.
Snape however, had his extra time of late preoccupied with thoughts of Hermione Granger. At first, he passed it off as normal professorial interest in a promising young newcomer to the potions world. She was brilliant and it was excited to take credit for being a mentor of sorts. After that, it had been more… protective in nature, and somewhat personal as he tried to find out everything he could about the witch who had blessed him with a Goddess and why she had done it. Of course when Miss Weasley returned, he knew why. 'He was at the top of our list. He's in more danger than any of us.' An Order member, a spy. He must be protected at all costs.
It never occurred to him that she chose him for some personally redeeming quality, for just being Severus Snape. Not Professor Snape, not spy, not Order member, just Severus.
He didn't expect that he would drift off to sleep mid-afternoon exhausted from his day at the cave, returning to the dungeons sorting through her notes and what not. He had nodded off while perusing them, seeing the notes to herself in the margins, as if she had been over and over them. Try the widowroot with the belladonna and substitute the acid for… She knew his book inside out. This is the work he had hoped to inspire. And the potential potions mistress in question was reduced to making do with winter's resources in order to make soap in a cauldron out of sheer necessity.
Damn.
The first vision of her that came to him that night was not her mind, or her safety. It was her beauty. Hermione was a remarkably beautiful woman, he saw it in her face when she struggled with an idea, when she was debating with him, or when she would fall half-asleep in a tome on his divan by the fire. The light would catch the red hues in her hair and cast shadows on her face. She was downright gorgeous at the Yule Ball when she sang, and even under the Polyjuice he could see Hermione in Fiona Whittier, recognizing her soul in her actions, her facial expressions.
The last thing he heard before waking up was, "I'm sorry, you just missed her."
-------------------
At her request Jake drove her around the outskirts of London, the rather seedier part of town. She kept her head down and asked Jake to stop on a street near a few bars, cheap hotels, and abandoned buildings.
"Hermione you're out of your mind! I'm not dropping you off here." True to his word, he drove ten more blocks down the street, and while the local businesses remained largely unchanged, it at least looked cleaner, with less overt criminal activity.
"Jake, I'm sorry I haven't been able to explain very much to you. Please trust me when I say this is something that I have to do on my own. Don't tell anyone I came here okay?" she pleaded.
He agreed, but he wasn't happy about it. He hugged and kissed his good friend clad in his sister's clothes goodbye. When Jake drove off, he looked in the rearview mirror but she was already gone.
Hermione stood in the alleyway, deciding what to do next. She had exactly 165 pounds in her pocket. She needed a place to sleep and a job. She had already passed several homeless people on the street, no longer a common sight in many parts of London— but this wasn't quite London anymore.
She knew after the forest and a decent bath, she didn't want to live like that and presently she wasn't a far cry from it. She knocked on some doors but no one was hiring, certainly not for cash which is what she would insist on being paid. She needed tips.
The street was filled with bars and pubs, some looking more established than others. But it was daytime and Hermione wondered what this place looked like at night. Walking in front of a club called The Shot, she knocked on the door— loudly. "Hello?" Hermione pressed her nose up against the glass and tried to peer in darkened windows to see if she could see the faint outlines of movement or something to indicate a manager might be inside. At least there was the welcoming 'Help Wanted' sign in the window.
A man opened the door, holding a Coke in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "What do you want?"
"I came to see about the job." She said a silent prayer.
He turned without closing the door and she let herself in for the impromptu interview, shutting the door and locking it behind her.
"Why did you do that?" referring to her locking the door.
"Because you're closed, aren't you? I didn't imagine you'd want anyone to wander in."
"Good. Glad to see you have a brain. Our last bartender would conveniently forget to leave those things unlocked. Made off with half of our liquor."
"Bartender? Is that the position open?" She was getting worried.
"You catch on fast," he said, dropping his butt on the floor and snuffing it out with his shoe.
"I have to be honest, I can't mix drinks…"
He laughed heartily through a new cigarette and lit it. "Don't have to, we only sell shots." He pointed at the sign.
Oh. The Shot.
"Ok, show me what you got. Sell yourself," he leaned back taking a long drag.
Hermione did her best, he was a lazy interviewer. "I don't drink or use drugs, I work hard, I don't have a second job to interfere with scheduling time…"
"Alright, shut up, you had me at 'hello'. Need a bartender for tomorrow." She looked astonished. "Humph, what? Too soon for you?"
"No, that's great. I would only request to be paid cash." She braced for his feedback.
His eyebrows wrinkled. "Any particular reason?"
She thought fast. "I got stiffed at a previous job and I don't keep a bank account."
"Okay, deal. You start tomorrow night at four-thirty sharp. We set up then and people start flooding in here after work, we close at two-thirty."
Hermione's eyes widened. "How many people come in here a night?"
"Around 300 to 350 at any given time. We have 4 bartenders and you work pretty much non-stop. When Danny comes on, he'll show you the bar. We're open Tuesday through Saturday, so those are your work days. There are no off days, understand? No one to cover for you if you get sick, so if you don't show you better be dead or going to the hospital okay?"
She nodded, relived to get a job and terrified of bartending. As she was leaving, he finally asked her name and she spit out the first name that came to mind, "Kate Evans." And there was her manager, the short, balding chain smoker, Nick Culver. Dry sense of humor, but funny. Took no crap and on the inside she imagined him an old softie. But what did she know, she thought to herself. She'd just met the man. To him she was a warm body that could pour drinks— So long as she kept moving an didn't stiff him, she'd probably do fine.
Walking down the street, she wandered in and toured several buildings. Among the ones with open doors, most smelled, were too congested, or isolated for her tastes. She wanted something in between. No crowds, few loiters, and no suspicious absence of people. If the locals here didn't want to go there, she figured she shouldn't either. Finally she came upon Avery Inn, a dingy, run-down hotel, and saw the lowest rate yet— sixteen pounds sterling a night. Looked like most people around here were one-night stays or weekly renters. Maybe she could negotiate a cheaper weekly or monthly rate. The landlord seemed a bit shifty and terse, but accepted eighty five pounds for the first week, and would accept two-hundred seventy for the month if she could pay it all in advance. Seeing her new place of residence, she was sure it wasn't worth that much. The bed was old, but sheets and bed pad were new. (She wondered what it had taken to prompt that change.) The room was filthy and it looked as if someone had brewed horrible things here, the wallpaper was peeling and sticky with something brown. The cave was cleaner by far. But she had running water and no animals (that she could see). And there was toilet paper. She chalked it up as an upgrade.
Wandering down the hall past a derelict ice maker, she came across the supply closet, rarely used. She pilfered some gloves, three sponges and an array of untouched cleaning products. After working three detentions worth of work off in her room and going through half of the cleaning supplies, she felt satisfied that she could actually set foot in her bathtub and touch the walls without cringing. The mirrors were shiny and the table was immaculately clean. Only then did she unpack. It was six o'clock, she had a place to stay, was employed ('thank you God!'), and had a bed to sleep in. Hermione rewarded herself with a shower. She used one of the towels Jake had parted with instead of the rather crusty ones available, slipped into a fresh change of clothes (i.e. t-shirt and a pair of sweats) and collapsed into the bed, the only truly clean thing in the room (though she dared not look at the mattress).
Thoughts ran through her mind about the day. She'd seen Remus for maybe 20 minutes; she didn't get to banter with him and catch up, or ask about Harry and how he was doing, Pansy or Ginny, her parents— They must be crazy with worry, she thought. And then when she did have the opportunity at companionship, she'd squandered it. All meaningful conversation with her longtime friend was completely wasted by empty pleasantries and trite phrases. She was humbled by his caring for her when she was not able to do it herself. For at least fifteen minutes of her one and a half hour stay at the Ashby's, she was curled in a ball under water, practically paralyzed and unable to function. Probably because she felt safe there, she thought, but it was more than that. People aren't meant to live in isolation from the world and certainly not Hermione Granger. And she appreciated his help, she thought, as she felt hairs poke out at odd angles prickling the back of her neck.
But she hated her hair.
---------------
"Miss Weasley, might I have a word?" asked Professor McGonagall. She had been kind an accessible since their return, always available in the wings, but not saying much. She quietly made herself available to the students. The SOS mostly relied on each other, and many of the girls felt that only the members of the group could truly understand what it was like, making the sacrifices they had. But Ginny had seemed rather distracted and preoccupied lately, and her attention in transfiguration was wavering. So Minerva sought her out.
Ginny followed her into her office and sat opposite Professor McGonagall. Instead of sitting behind her desk, she lit a fire, poured tea and offered Ginny a biscuit, taking a seat in the chair next to her.
"No thank you, Professor."
"Miss Weasley, you seem to have a great deal on your mind, of late. I wanted to see how you are. It must be difficult with Hermione gone. Would you like to talk about it?"
Ginny didn't know what to say. She and Pansy had talked about a lot this last week and were just now mustering up the courage to truly consider talking to Dumbledore about their idea. Better a woman. "I'm really worried about her. At first, I just took Hermione at her word that she was in danger, but now, since we haven't heard from her, it seems like not knowing is killing me. Anything could've happen to her! It's like Kendra or Melanie. We have no idea what happened to Kendra, but I'm not going to sit here and deceive myself and pretend that it's all good, y'know? I feel a little better from her last message."
"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Apparently Hermione continued to live in the forest after you left. Professor Lupin found her this morning…"
"What? That's great! Where is she…" Her face fell, on seeing McGonagall disheartened look. "She's not here is she?"
"She spoke to him briefly, and used a portkey to a new location. She didn't cast it there, so we couldn't track her. We did see where she stayed, and I must say I am so proud of you Gryffindor women," the elder witch said a bit glassy eyed. "All of you. You're survivors."
"But she can't keep going like this! I have to tell Harry, maybe now she'll try to talk to her family or something. I need to go talk to my parents. Her mum and dad will be thrilled to have word."
"They've already had news from Dumbledore, and Professor Dumbledore took Mister Potter to see the cave where she stayed." Minerva crossed her long wrinkled fingers in front of her. "Any ideas on where she might have gone?"
Ginny huffed in aggravation. "I have no idea, but…" She took a breath. It's too horrible. They shouldn't.
"But what, Miss Weasley?"
"Pansy and I have been thinking about something, but we weren't sure about trying it. Now I'm pretty well desperate to try anything," she sighed.
"I think we're way past that point, Ginny, don't you? What did you have in mind?" Professor McGonagall was all ears.
-----------
"Why didn't you just petrify her!" Harry said tersely to Remus. "Shit! Living in the forest all this time and not even trying to contact us. Except "the word," thanks a lot Hermione!" Harry had been on a full rant which had been going on for some time. "This isn't like her to do this!"
"Harry, I don't think any of us know what Hermione is 'like' after this last year's events. Perhaps Ginny or Pansy would be better suited to helping you anticipate what she might do under these circumstances."
"Are you saying I don't know my best friend?" Harry said hotly.
"No, all I'm saying is that Hermione had apparently been through a great deal that she does not particularly feel like sharing and maybe the men folk and others not in SOS can really understand what she's had to deal with," Remus reasoned.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "So what are we going to do? We should keep a close eye on the original lookout points," Harry instinctively reached for the cellular, checking for messages.
"You are going to stay put and wait to hear like all of us are. There is an Order meeting tonight. We'll meet afterward and let you know if anything useful comes up.
Harry hated being left out, he was furious, but there was no way they'd let him go, Boy-Who-Lived or not. But he couldn't grumble too much, Dumbledore had kept him updated and let him help direct the search. He got to speak often with her parents and they enjoyed the visits even though they weren't with their daughter.
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The kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place, the proper meeting place for all Order business, was crowded and buzzing with news of Hermione Granger's brief appearance. Noisy from the mutterings of nearly two dozen wizards and witches, Arthur Weasley had to raise his voice to call the meeting to order.
"Order! Order! All right then…" The chattering subsided. "Thank you. We have a lot on the agenda today, so let's give assignments first. We have new leads on Hermione's disappearance. As some of you may know, Hermione's second shelter was a cavern in the Forbidden Forest not far from where the SOS members previously camped. So it is more important than ever to keep your shifts that you took mid-January. Especially her home, friends, family, neighborhood, and hang-outs."
"How current is the information, Arthur? When exactly did you hear from her?" asked Emmeline Vance, the latecomer.
"Just this morning she was found in the forest by Remus Lupin, but she portkeyed away. She still hasn't cast any magic yet through my contacts at the Ministry. Assume your posts and pass the word to the people who come to relieve you." Twelve people exited the kitchen leaving the number of people more manageable by far.
"What other news of the Ministry's response?" asked Snape gravely. Even mentioning the Ministry left a foul taste in his mouth.
"I was hoping for some guidance from you actually. I haven't told the Minister of the sighting of Hermione, and earlier today he preoccupied much of Dumbledore's time," Albus nodded, "saying how three months is long enough of a drain on Ministry resources to keep the Aurors and contacts looking for her." Arthur's jaw clenched severely and Molly mirrored his expression.
"What was it Fudge said?" Minerva turned to Albus and said sternly, "Ah yes, 'too much effort for one silly girl'."
"As if it's only about Hermione Granger," exclaimed Fletcher.
Mrs. Figg whacked him on the arm with her string bag. "Merlin Mundungus, we know it's about Hogwarts and safety and all, but this is Hermione Granger were talking about, a promising young witch and not some lost pet!"
He cowered beneath the scowl of his other half. Who said squibs weren't to be feared?
"Cornelius knows that the search is turning up no leads, but of course he had always been looking in the wrong place," said Dumbledore resignedly without a trace of animosity. "Rest assured the Ministry will come through in a flash if Hermione decides to visit her vault at Gringotts or fancies a bit of shopping. Therefore, my recommendation would be that we tell him nothing."
"That's right," Molly spoke up angrily. "Fudge is no good use for anyone, least of all the safety of Hermione. If Fudge did know anything, you'd bet that Malfoy would have her in the company of the Death Eaters before we were ever told."
"What reports from that group, Snape?" Moody growled.
"None." He said dryly, in clipped tones his bit out the bitter news. "There has been no word. They of course are still looking, but most Death Eater business is being discussed amongst very few people."
"I suppose no news is good news, eh?" Mundungus chimed in, and received another wallop from Arabella.
Arthur cleared his throat. "If you will excuse me," he said standing. "We have some special guests this evening, who in light of recent events have decided to come forward to provide any additional insight into how we might be able to contact Hermione. There may be objections to their participation in an Order meeting, but I think this will benefit us." The tall, broad, red-headed man regarded his wife to gauge her reaction as Ginny and Pansy walked in.
There were a few gasps and Tonks spoke up, "If you had information that would help us, why didn't you bring it up earlier?" The Auror in her was speaking out, all business.
Ginny bit her tongue, and her lips formed a hard white line..
"Because we only just thought of it, that's why," Pansy said stiffly, pulling Ginny into the seat beside her.
"How do we know we can trust you, Miss Parkinson?" Moody's glass eye suspiciously swiveled in its socket as if taking her apart, looking for hidden weapons.
"I will vouch for her Moody," Dumbledore's voice broke the tension and Pansy smirked at bit at her endorsement. They had a long talk that day, and for once she had met an adult she could put faith in.
"You vouch for a lot of people, Albus." Moody harrumphed shooting a sideways glance at Snape.
"They didn't have to come this evening, but they chose to. Please hear them out. I imagine it was difficult enough to come without having to hear the grumbling opinions of al of us. Please, Miss Weasley, Miss Parkinson. You have our complete attention," McGonagall said firmly, glaring at Moody.
Ginny carefully addressed the people before her. She knew them all, and that made it more difficult. They included three professors, the Headmaster and her parents. Everyone went silent as they watched the young red head prepare to speak.
"What I have to talk about with you tonight," she swallowed, "is very personal to me." She pinked a bit. "Private. I would appreciate no outbursts to my comments that don't pertain to Hermione's wellbeing." She looked to her mum, and watched as she grasped her father's hand. Mrs. Weasley was afraid for her daughter, not fully understanding what she had gone through, but perceptive enough to know she hadn't been told the whole story. Ginny had been very tight-lipped about the whole thing, and her mum had been waiting patiently for Ginny to come to her with it.
"Everyone is looking for Hermione because of the weakness in the wards. But Hermione is not being hunted because she endured the spell longest. She is a target, because she is the last of three." Most of the group were wide-eyed having heard this for the first time, and even then most who knew the story had heard it second hand. "We worked all year perfecting the spell, the precise incantation. The mere thought or mention of phrases in the spell overwrought all of us with desire over the entire course of the fall term." She went on to explain about the pentacle, which girls stood at the five points and why. "The conclusion of the spell effectively released the hold of the desire on all of the casters… except the last three to fall, and that was Hermione, Pansy and me." Molly paled to white and gripped Arthur's hand harder, but Ginny looked to others and pressed on. "Our appetites however, kept building. When Pansy finished reading the book of spells we were reading from, I mean— it's enormous, tiny print, so many spells… we finally found out about the secondary way to break the wards. We knew we all had to hide out for about a month, or else we could all be killed and the wards would fall, but then," Ginny sighed, and licked her lips. "If even one of the objects of our desire is killed, the wards will fall. The catch is, in order for the wards on Hogwarts to be permanent, each of the three of us were required to consummate the link with the object of our desire. Pansy and I could return to Hogwarts because we could fulfill our part of the spell. Hermione couldn't do that, that's why she left."
Nearly everyone in the room was stupefied. This was ridiculous.
Pansy cut in, trying to cut off the obvious questions that could ensue from a statement such as that. "This brings us to our idea about how to find her, or rather bring her in. Hermione is still fighting incredibly strong desire. I imagine it has kept building since her departure. When Ginny and I returned to Hogwarts we nearly didn't make it to Dumbledore's office to discuss what had happened."
"So both of you have already…" Arabella suggested, pale herself.
"Absolutely!" Pansy exclaimed. Several persons were taken aback at her outspoken reply. "Are you kidding? It's been three months! Let me tell you. You cannot possibly understand how incredibly powerful that spell was, and how difficult it is to fight it. Harry and Draco are now safe." She avoided the steely disapproving looks from the crowd. You couldn't have resisted either, she thought. "We have no idea who Hermione fancies."
"She kept it a secret," Ginny supplied. "It could be a Muggle, but we think it's more likely someone at Hogwarts where she spends all of her time. Pansy and I didn't want Hermione to be bothered before. She was very adamant about not returning, and we tried to convince her to come back with us, but she wouldn't have it. All of us where pretty convinced she was doing the right thing by hiding…"
"How can you say that?" Mrs. Weasley barked out.
Ginny didn't want to get into an argument with her mom, so she directed her reply to the rest of the group. "If Hermione came back to Hogwarts she would risk the same temptations Pansy and I had to face, and even if Dumbledore would be able to protect her she would be afraid someone would find out of try to find out who her object of desire is, thinking they know better than she does." Dumbledore had to admit, this had crossed his mind. "But now, Hermione's been gone almost 4 months since before Christmas. We're worried about her, and she can't hide out forever, not able to use magic…"
"I feel like we're just waiting for something horrible to happen to her!" Pansy said firmly. "We have to find a way to help her."
"What are you suggesting?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"We found another spell, one that would increase her desire even more. We think she wouldn't be able to resist much more and she'd be desperate and have to come back."
"I'm still not sure this is such a good idea," Tonks said. It sounded quite cruel to her.
"The spell wants to be satisfied. Even Hermione won't be able to resist that forever." Pansy said.
"So we're just waiting for the girl to get randy enough to return and shag the object of her desire?" growled Moody.
"Don't belittle her!" Pansy shouted angrily. "Don't do that. Desire is not just about sex, and Hermione's not staying away to avoid it." Shit, she was saying more than she wanted to again. "Hermione's feelings for this man are not shallow and her desire not purely physical. She has told me a bit, and I won't discuss it because she told me in confidence. But don't say that about her again." Pansy had a fire in her eyes that told the one eyed man she was loyal and was a breath away from hexing him.
"She could behave erratically," Snape stated as plainly as he could. He wasn't liking this plan too much so far, but he was eager for any news. Ginny and Pansy looked at each other nervously, remembering their own feverish experiences.
"We brought everything with us," Pansy pulled the things out of her bag. "Professor Dumbledore, you said that if Hermione gets desperate, that you would have a way of seeing her."
"Yes, yes, I did say that. She had not needed our help up to now, the mirror has been empty," the Headmaster sighed. "I am rather hesitant to inflict this upon her, but feel she is likely in more danger now than ever. If you will excuse me, I must return to my office to retrieve a few items." The Order members anxiously waited and Ginny tried to avoid her mother's gaze, feeling a bit of embarrassment in her public declaration that she had shagged Harry silly immediately after she returned. When she caught her father's gaze though, she looked on her with tearful pride. Only then did she dare risk a glance at her mum. The rosy face of her wistful mother stared back at her with a mixture of sadness and appreciation of her daughter's strength.
Ginny gripped Pansy's hand, and they started to unpack. The others looked on as the two girls talked with one another as they had done a million times in preparation of the original spell. "It's concuspico, Pansy. I know it."
"Not that one. 'Concuspico' means to long for something, not for someone. She's not coveting anything. It's cupiditas, passionate longing."
"What about 'desiderium' then? That's like grieving for the loss of someone."
Other people began offering their suggestions, but they were summarily ignored by the two witches in the center of the room, law unto themselves.
"Okay then, why not all of them? All kinds of desire, isn't that what you felt inflicted upon you during the spell?" Pansy suggested. "If we write them onto our skin and then take the blood, then chant the words, that should be sufficient."
"It's our spell. I can't believe we're writing one from scratch." Ginny muttered, but everyone could hear.
"You're writing your own magic?" Minerva asked, intrigued and somewhat impressed.
"Kind of," Pansy answered. "It was in the book, and didn't really give us too many specifics. We're bound to Hermione in a way and always have called each other sisters since we formed the group. Our blood will link us to her, and we'll try to reawaken the desire we experienced and add that to her own." Ginny shuddered a bit on hearing this.
"I feel horrible," Ginny admitted.
"She'll be alright," Pansy said, not believing her own words. "Once she's safe," she added to make it a truer statement. They pulled out grease markers and began writing on each others forearms. Libio, fames, exoptare, cupiditas, egeo, desiderium, avere, praegestio apirare meus soror.
"Think that's enough?" Pansy joked awkwardly.
"Are you kidding? We're running out of skin." Ginny huffed.
Snape could see the Latin words for a myriad variations of desire from here. The crowd began to shift uncomfortably as the women muttered with one another, practicing the pronunciations. As far as Snape could hear, their Latin was perfect. These were words they had practiced over and over already, he thought. He could easily picture twenty virgins huddled in the Room of Requirement chanting secret words.
Pansy pulled out an dagger. "It's beautiful,"Ginny breathed. "What are the runes on the blade?"
"Different things, all good. I promise," Pansy winked.
Dumbledore reentered the kitchen, parting the group with his long cobalt robes. On the long kitchen table he placed a wide stone bowl and produced a silver pitcher full of ordinary water. He poured slowly into the bowl, chanting under his breath. Pansy and Ginny watched as he prepared the mirror. It never occurred to them that it would be the glassy surface of water. Once the water had stilled and the surface became a reflection of her face, Dumbledore retrieved a vial from his pocket and pulled out a single hair. There were several remaining and re replaced the vial in his pocket. The water did not shake or tremble the slightest bit, and everyone instinctively held their breath. Hermione's hair floated to the water's surface and caused a series of echoing ripples that rebounded from the edge of the bowl and back on itself. The water became unnaturally still, the ripples not repeating after the first return. The mirror was empty, and Pansy could not see even her own reflection anymore. Definitely something magic at work here.
"Anytime you are ready my dears," his soft voice nudged them.
Pansy and Ginny knelt on opposite sides of the bowl, Pansy with dagger in hand. Their eyes met with a bit of fear. Ginny released a breath and nodded. Their right and left index fingers touching at the nail, Pansy pricked both of them and their blood ran together meeting at the tip, blood mixing until a drop fell into the basin cracking through the water's surface and falling to the bottom of the basin like a pebble. They read the lengths of their arms.
"Apirare libio meus soror… apirare fames meus soror..." Infuse desire in my sister…
---------------------
Hermione woke up from her nap. It was late, maybe ten or so. She rubbed her eyes and flicked on the light. The bulb flashed, threatening to go out, but then brightened. She stretched and got to her feet. She felt pretty rested, but still insecure in her new place. She reached into her bag and pulled out a few books. Still groggily she looked in the mirror, and did a double take…
"My hair!" She laughed and jumped excitedly. It had grown backto it's full bushy nature, and was clean to boot. Harry had talked with her before at how Aunt Petunia had forced him to get his hair cut and it kept growing back, like it had a mind of its own. Jake had cut her hair against her will. There were advantages to being a witch. Hermione hadn't practiced magic in a while and seeing her hair back was a confirmation that she still had her mojo.
She went back to the task at hand, feeling more like her old self. She moaned the loss of most of her books. They were all back at the cave, including Snape's book and her notes. Hermione hoped they wouldn't be searched too thoroughly— she thought she had crossed out all damning attempts at her ambiagram, and many poor attempts at poetry. Most of her notes were from last summer.
Ah, here it is. 'Ancient Runes and Spells.' She flipped to the chapter she wanted and read first. Holding the book out in her left arm, she took out a black wax pencil and wrote on the door and its frame. One rune at a time, careful not to make errors, she drew upon ancient wandless ways of protecting her domain. Runes would have to do, and no one would expect it.
She stopped halfway, feeling a bit hot. Funny, it should be getting cooler with the evening. She grasped her t-shirt to get some air to her skin. Whew. She began to sweat, and felt a low ache, almost a burn.
-------------------
Slowly in the bowl a faint image of the wiry haired Gryffindor came into view and Minerva gasped. "There she is…"
Ginny and Pansy continued chanting. Drip— another blood drop fell like a stone into the pool. "Apirare exoptare meus soror, Apirare cupiditas meus soror…"
Everyone watched at the room came into focus. She was drawing runes, and then leaned against the door for support…
"Apirare egeo meus soror, Apirare desiderium meus soror…"
Hermione broke the wax pencil in half. "God, what's happening to me?" She took a shaky step back and felt her abdomen tighten painfully, her eyes watering. A sharp pain stabbed her in the heart and in her stomach and she gripped her middle as if she could pull the pain out.
"Oh God!" She bit her lower lip as thoughts flooded with images of him, the things that past between them over the year, the visions that came to her during the spell.
"Apirare avere meus soror, apirare praegestio meus soror!" they finished, pulling their arms away to look into the mirror.
Praegestio, Snape thought leaning forward for a better look, intense desire. Hermione was there, in a shabby room, having doubled over onto a tiled floor. There was no sign there from what he could tell of her whereabouts.
"Look harder," Pansy said. "Can you see anything on the door? Do you think she's in a hotel or someone's house?" she asked to Ginny.
Ginny's heart leapt when she saw the visual conformation of Hermione alive and well, but her soul cried out when she saw her in pain. "Pansy, I don't know… look at her." She said, her eyes moist with tears. Then Pansy really looked at her sister in the bowl. It must be unbearable. They clung to one another for support, knowing all to well the anguish, this must be magnified for her.
"AHHHHHH!!! This isn't… nat-ur-al!" Hermione's lips pressed together, her face sweaty and streaked with tears. She felt impulsive, like she had to get to Severus anyway she could.
"Why are you doing this to me?" She screamed with balled fists at the air. Clutching her wand, she spun toward the door defensively, as if someone would leap out to attack her at any moment. She crumpled in pain. It had never hurt this badly when she thought of him. Even in the caves on the first days, even during the incantation. "I'll get you Voldemort," she sobbed under her breath. "I'll get you! I won't let you have him… I won't…" A moment passed and her desire increased, more pain and no pleasure, just intense longing, desire… loss. Her high keening could be heard as her chest heaved sorrow, and rummaged through her jeans pockets, unaware of spectators.
Ginny and Pansy felt victory close at hand as they recognized the gold portkey. And then watched as Hermione flung it in a cry of frustration against the door. Snape felt horrible somewhere in the pit of his stomach. It hurt him physically to see her in pain. Damn it, stubborn girl! Come back! We'll protect you. I'll find a way…
Hermione's reflection clutched at her chest and she sobbed. She heard the voices over and over in her head and she repeated it on weighted breath aloud, "He'll never.. he could never love you."
No one in the room could hear anything intelligible except see her pain, her desperation. There was not a dry eye.
"I can't see anything!" Ginny cried. "There's no clues, everything's just ordinary."
"Keep looking!" Pansy said. Everyone focused on the details of the room, looking for the tiniest shred of a clue that might suggest a location. A place to start looking.
And Snape sat horrified at the sight of Hermione in pain as the pit of anger and outrage bubbled up within him, only it wasn't only his own feelings but also the fear of another. His knuckles were white as he gripped his wand.
Hermione stood straight up in a flurry of movement, eyes crazed— She ran her fingers through her hair and dumped out the contents of her bottomless bag. It was nearly empty. She had left the cave with almost nothing. Her belongings rattled out and shook to the floor. When she saw the shine of the hilt of the dagger she grabbed it and pointed towards her arm, and then herself. She knew a way out. No one would ever know.
Something exploded inside of Snape at that moment. Gaia was very angry. "NO!" A bright light shot out of the end of Snape's wand like a cannon and blasted the basin over, drenching most of the surrounding onlookers and causing many to draw their own wands.
"What the hell did you do that for Snape?!" Moody sneered.
"We were so close!" Fletcher said.
"Close to what?" Molly hissed. "She was about to do herself in!" Dumbledore retrieved the bowl in a flash and poured again, preparing the mirror. Pansy and Ginny looked at their arms and the grease marks had vanished. They hoped that the spell had ended, and with it her suffering.
"What are you doing? I won't put her through that again!" Snape growled.
"It is just to look. When she is no longer in desperation she will fade from view. Let us at least make sure she's alright," Albus said solemnly.
Arthur looked angrily at Snape, not believing his actions. Dumbledore caught his glance and led, "Snape did what was right in ending that spell. We should have ended it sooner. We will not talk any more of it." The severity in the Headmaster's voice indicated the matter was final. The water became still and he floated a second strand of hair to the surface.
Soon the relieved sighs of everyone could be heard as they saw Hermione again.
He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and tell her that he was sorry. Snape would have done anything.
Still crouched on the floor, she dropped the knife, weeping into her hands. She let out a few shuddering breaths and wiped her tears angrily, the fierce Gryffindor spirit back in place. The desire had miraculously subsided, though she could still feel it's ill effects. It was a dramatic difference from a moment before, but it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. She threw her hair back and grabbed a rubber band to secure the wild tresses. Grabbing the broken marker again, she took her book of runes and attempted to pick up where she left off. Nauthiz… Algiz…She slammed the book closed and threw the pencil across the room. Her hand was shaking too much to write. Spying the bottle, she could not think about a better time to have a second go. She grabbed a Styrofoam cup from the desk and poured herself a generous portion of firewhiskey. As she drank her image began to fade from view. No one saw her stumble to reach for the green ribbon which had disappeared under the bed. She replaced it on the bottle where it belonged, no one the wiser.
Pansy and Ginny were holding hands, still shaking a bit from the witnessed display. They had not healed their fingertips, their hands sticky with blood. Minerva washed their hands with a clean towel and healed them with a flick of her wand.
"Miss Granger will be alright. She is a very resilient and powerful young witch," Minerva said with encouragement, and not only for the benefit of the two guests.
Pansy caught Professor Snape's eye and addressed him. "Thank you for stopping the ritual. I'm so sorry we did it at all."
"Why?" It was done with good intentions," Arthur said soothingly.
Ginny snapped back, "It was torture. You can't understand how horrible it is to be trapped, to go so long without…" She clenched her teeth. "You didn't see Hermione in that cave for three weeks. As soon as we read the passage about the wards, she knew she wasn't coming back."
"She didn't sleep much, " Pansy whispered. "And when she did I could hear her sobbing. I don't think she was always aware of it."
Snape's chest caved a little more. His blood was still boiling from the sight of her fighting the onslaught of desire. He expected she would be overcome with a feverish yearning, but instead of writhing, she had curled up in pain and cried. Why?
"I'm so glad she's alright," Pansy breathed to Ginny.
"We're sorry, Hermione," Ginny whispered to the bowl with no image.
"You did fine," Minerva said, misty.
"It was a good suggestion, Miss Weasley. A good one. No harm was intended and Miss Granger, as always, bore it well." Dumbledore comforted her, with a pat on her shoulder.
Molly was still staring at the blank bowl as everyone departed the meeting a good twenty minutes later. Only Arthur, Remus, McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore and the girls remained.
"She's in love, isn't she?" Molly asked Pansy, a secret Pansy told very few. She could only nod. Hermione's heart was breaking.
Albus took Snape aside, and said, "I'll keep this in my office as I have from the beginning. Sooner or later she will be visible again. We shall find her. Are you quite alright?" he asked the troubled man.
Snape's eyes were dark and he was still angry, but his agitation was subsiding. "Yes." The word was bit out.
"I take it your Goddess did not agree with the activities this evening," Dumbledore said low so no one else could hear.
"She did not." And neither did I.
Author's notes:
I've reloaded this chapter with some rewrites. It was pointed out to me that an athame is a ritualistic knife used to cast circles and other things but never used for cutting. So in honor of all Wiccans out there, I changed it to be dagger that Pansy and Ginny use.
I wrestled with the writing of this chapter and you may flame me for it. I think that Hermione is a strong character but I wanted to be honest to what she's been through. Remember before I said Hermione did really well when she was taking care of other people but had trouble focusing on her self? Well she's been isolated for three months with no contact, healed Remus and then went on the lam. I hate to write her crying, but if I were in her shoes I would've kissed the ground and raided the kitchen too. She feels like a stranger in a house she grew up in, afraid to borrow the shower, but had been here a million times. It's great. If I get too many complaints I may re-write. Our heroine must have some faults and weaknesses somewhere, and I think her strength is her passionate heart and her weakness a stubbornness and desire to do the right thing at all cost.
Thanks very, very much to MA, who wrote me an e-mail and made many suggestions and edits for this chapter. One of the edits was changing "I look like a Chia Pet" to "I look like a sheep." Though either would be fine, juts in case you've never heard of ch-ch-ch Chia! Or if you are a trekkie, would you prefer tribble? Anyway, her hair is 'marish, thank god it grew back. She ain't Hermione without her hair. MA also helped me fill in annoying gaps and omissions in the story about relationships between characters… what happened to so and so? Professor McGonagall's reaction was also a direct result of our conversations. So thank you to you all for keeping me on my toes! The chapters are better because of your insightful comments and corrections.
BTW, in the previous chapter I made a reference to "Victim here! Victim here!" Any guesses as to which movie that came from? I like it and have to give credit where it's due. It's from Jumping Jack Flash with Whoopi Goldberg. In the scene, she's on the docks in the middle of the night and she notices her danger all alone in this setting and says, "I may as well pin a one dollar bill to my ass and scream 'Victim here! Victim here!'" Great comedy.
Thanks also to reviewers who got me though other means: Piglet, Katherine T. (okay so it was twenty two minutes, not ten), Angie, MA, and Shabopo's requests for 'are we there yet?' When's my next chapter! I love your excitement y'all!
Mintie- Thank you for coming on board! And thanks for your review. I ask all of the readers to let me know their specific beefs and questions. I frequently tweek the story accordingly.
CHsqrlgirl- Thank you, thank you. Hopefully you'll find the pull forced on Hermione in this chapter to be just awful.
Romm- Nnnnope. Calligraphy is too dangerous. But bartending… And the word thing is something I used to do in school (a lot of us did) when we were kids, we'd take a word like grass for example and make the G and R and A etc. out of tiny words. Like G would be Green, growth and R could be rabbits, rapid and so forth. All of Hermione's calligraphy looks too scripted to be identified as her handwriting and the WORD wasn't done in calligraphy fashion, though she probably borrowed concepts. Thank you for reviewing, hope you like the story direction!
crissy- Shining cauldrons? : ) Hermione's cauldrons are icky outside of a cave. Severus is going nuts. He's going to have to find some way to find her, or think about her til he comes up with something better.
Dragomaster Kurai- Thanks for your review. Sorry! It's finally here… Had to take a while to write it. Nearly caught up with my previous pre-written scenarios. Thank you for finally coming on board!
whizbees- Updated. : D Thanks for the review. Don't look so glum! (Accio new chapter… hey are you good or what?)
eav- Thanks! And stay tuned next week for another chapter of the Days of Our Spies… Sorry, that sounded really bad. cue music
alicat999- LMAO, aha ha. Thanks for the tutorial. I understand about line cutting, also have neighbors, and bad cable men. Harry's cool, and I love him—I would want him for my best friend wouldn't you? He's just a good guy. He's still being the dutiful friend. And I like the bit with Pansy's mum, though she's pretty ingrained in going along to get along, probably still believes a lot of the pureblood crap anyway. She may love her daughter, but she's far from reformed parent. I like the stuff with Draco, and in the next chapter, you'll see where it leads. Thanks, I liked the unicorns too! I like thinking of them as sacred animals and even to witches and wizards they seem to hold some mystery and elegance about them. And you're not weird. I squeal too!
Luna Writer- You're right about Remus, I'm going to go back today and re-read that bit, see if I can tweek it. He was thinking about that in a purely academic, technical sense, not to say 'woe is me, I'm not worthy.' I love your comments and I figured out what happened. I put your last review at the end of 18 and didn't have a review for 18 to put at the end of 19, because I updated so quickly. I hope you got my e-mail. I double-checked other reviews, just to make sure I didn't leave anyone out. I love you guys! Always appreciate feedback (in all its forms!).
mione drac opal- Here's your nice update! Thanks for reading and reviewing.
Shabopo- Thank you, and you've spurred me on to reread the whole thing too. Thought it would have with future chapters. After a while, they all seem to run together for me! Hope you enjoy the update. Hermione is still strong uber girl, though she is suffering in this chap.
lyress- Thank you! And Dumbledore didn't tell Miss Weasley at Ginny's request, she knew most of it, just not the whole consummation thing… until now. (Re: second message: it's up! It's up!)
Tiffie101- Sorry to annoy… Hermione is still runnin'. Soon, soon, maybe 4 more chapters.
June Williams- Thank you. And if Severus had seen her in the forest, Ha, ha. There would have been some wild sex, filthy Gryffindor or no. Severus wouldn't made it back to Hogwarts without being attacked. Twice a week! Gods woman, what do you think I'm capable of? In need to write soon, and will try to post quickly, without sacrificing quality. On a side note, I loved your comments on wiktt and your unsubscribe. I only just joined sychophant hex to lurk and see what's up. I was disappointed. Hope it will pass, as many things do, but if this keeps up… ah well.
Min Hee- Heh! I'll give you drawn out. At least four more chapters to go, and it ain't gonna be easy for sev/herm. Thanks for reviewing!
Simply Scribbling- Muwahahaa! Thank you, so hard to get a clue when it's right in front of you, can't see the forest for the trees. I was best friends with my husband for a year before we started dating and then we liked each other for 6 months without a clue that we were attracted to one another. We wanted it so badly, that we were worried we were reading too much into things. It'll be three years Aug 11. Thank you for the fic endorsement, I'm very appreciative. I joined sycophant hex after you mentioned it and am trying to figure out how to post an up-loadable version of The Twenty on Ashwinder. The link kind of gets lost in Dark Sarcasm. I like the Nev/Millie pairing, though I doubt there will be much more focus on the SOS at this point. Thank you for your steadfast support! And reviews. More soon, I promise.
The Lone Trombone- Thanks! Here's another installment, hope it doesn't disappoint! The lone trombone? How cool. Do you play?
Helena- Woo hoo! Glad you liked the cave. But this part is all about Hermione being isolated. This is a part of the Muggle world she had never been before, and she's cut off… a fish out of water. See, when she finally has the opportunity to talk, she can't. Just awful. Poor Hermione, so hungry, but not starving. I figure, she's lost some weight, but she's not grotesquely thin—just something her friends would notice. She won't use Katie, because she's stubborn and doesn't want to increase opportunity for danger in the wizarding world, but Katie is really the perfect person to go to. She'll call on her, before the end. A fabulous ending coming up, several chapters away.
Althea Grey- Cool. You're in league with Dumbledore's group you are. Thanks for your reviews! They are so encouraging. Severus will have his test in these two-three chapters.
Nakhash Mekashefah- Nope, she didn't take everything. In fact, she boxed up, though it's not discussed her calligraphy supplies and other damning evidence, including notes etc for Severus in case of her death. She made similar arrangements for the other people in her life and everything is with Melanie, charmed to be small. The chapters are unfolding, several more til the finish. As always thank you for your feedback!
severessa- Thank you and I couldn't agree more about prayer. Hermione will always find her strength in her faith when she feels powerless.
Matte- Not too bad? Good grief you're cool. She's butt cold in the forest for three months with nothing but nutritional supplements and a cauldron she can't use anymore for bathing. Hahh! Well Hermione at least is not an outdoorswoman. Thanks for reviewing! waves back
Poetrychik- Woo hoo! Me love cliffies! And you be getting mo. Thank you for reviewing! Tell me more bout what loose ends you want tied up!
Moon-n-Universe-Goddess- Thank you! And thanks for reading.
Salems Goddess- It's weird to hear you say that, so I can't agree. If this is the best fic you ever read PLEASE go to other website or join wiktt or look at Abby and Anne's stories. God there are fabulous rock you world stories out there, some long completed. Go to Ashwinder/Synchophant Hex or Lord and Lady Snape, EnSnared had a good website too with fan fic recs. Read Cloak of Courage by Wendy Nat, or Ordinary People by Hayseed.
Lori- Thank you! She went to hide in seedy London! And yes, you can too remark. No thoughts or observations are bad. All feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reviewing.
Marina- Yeah, that is frustrating isn't it? What the Headmaster was trying to say was that they didn't want to force her to come back only to run away, and to some degree they feel they know better than she, but also are intensely curious about who her OOD is, how they can protect him, and why she can't finish the spell. Would it really be so bad?
Eek, sorry didn't go into the Order decision making system. I think it's by majority, but also Dumbledore is at the head. He may make some command decisions, but I don't think he go full tilt against the wishes of everyone. I read some fics where dramatic, unethical-as you say, things have happened for the good of the Order etc… but in reality I don't think that will happen. I did have a bit in this fic (which I have discarded), where Hermione is refusing to talk to Snape and Dumbledore and the Big D gives her Veritaserum… ah the possibilities for hell. I have rewritten that scenario to be far more exciting... the tale continues! Death Eaters are looking, but don't know where, sorry haven't written in that end of things, wanted it to be a mystery. Thank you for reviewing.
wackoramaco87- Hey, thanks for your feedback. Hope you like her new digs. Severus is too busy desiring Hermione to realize he's desired himself. Can't wait for you to see what will happen next.
Pandora Nervosa- Thank you! Hermione is on the run. Remus won't be the last mistake Headmaster and Co. make. Hope you like this chapter. And on to 21…
Kylara- Hermione will NOT be dragged. She's not one to be treated that way. If that happened she'd be kicking someone's arse. Glad you like the camping issue, hope you like her bath in this chapter. Poor Hermione, she should never be deprived of the necessities.
Alpha- Thank you for reading and reviewing.
Ezmerelda- Hey! I thought the same thing about the "word," but then it's not calligraphy, but a game as kids we use to make up in school. I was maybe 10. A crude example would be to use the word grass and the letter G would have the tiny repeated words green, growth and R might be rapid, rabbits and so forth. I suppose hers is a little more sophisticated, but Snape still thinks his artist is probably a man. Or at least an adult. The Ogden's above is purchased by everyone, so while they are surprised she had it, they aren't surprised of the brand. I told MA that Katie really won't be consulted for who the calligrapher is, though I'm thinking of including her as a means to find out if she purchased the book at Flourish and Blotts or by mail order, since they have a sales ledger.
Azulkan2- hey there! The new chapter addressed your questions! Hope you like the update. Thanks for reviewing.
franflutewitch- So go you keep on. Hope things are still well for you. And as for Snape finding her in the forest…nah. But I did consider a dream sequence for him where he gets to the hero… but nah. Soon there will be before on him identifying or trying to deny he own feelings.