I got some really
lovely reviews on last chapter. Thank you, everyone!
SelenityPotter was my
super-quick reviewer. I'm glad you're having fun.
SlytherinsDarkAngel07:
Flute, eh? That's pretty cool! As for the two options you offered
for the 'waking up scene'…none of the above. Honestly it never
occurred to me to have them wake up spooning at this stage. Kinda
early on for that sort of thing, considering the, erm, leisurely
pace at which I'm letting things develop. (Yeah, okay, I'll admit
I'm damn slow about building up to the action sometimes, but I
always deliver!)
DeAtH2aLLpRePZ: an
update, as requested!
SpykedJadeDragon: I
shall update as regularly as possible…hope you like it!
Hand3: the Update Fairy
strikes again!
Lil: better late than
never. Foreshadowing, eh? You warped English major you.
Right then, here we go!
I don't own them and
this is just a bit of fun, not intended to be a literary masterpiece.
That said, please read and review…
aimes
"Ow," Hermione groaned as she woke up. "I didn't realize it was possible to be this sore." She turned her head toward Snape, who rolled onto his side to face her and studied her eyes. "I have some muscle relaxants if it will help," he offered.
"Do you have a headache potion that won't make me sleepy?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes," he assured her. "Hermione, I need your help to find the temple and the Chord."
"And Regina," she finished for him. "I know. I was going to find it anyways…to destroy the Chord."
"Destroy it? Why?" He reached toward her, gently feeling out the wound on her head. She grimaced slightly but spoke.
"It shouldn't exist," she said simply. "It isn't needed, and in the wrong hands it's very dangerous. Take someone like Regina. She's devoted nearly her whole life to being good enough to win an Eternal pendant, just so she can get the Chord. And in the end Eternal musicians are chosen by their peers, not the universe, and people are fallible. What if they'd chosen Regina? If I hadn't decided to try for it this year, they might have. Many in the music world had begun to think I would never play for the Eternal Harpist, and there was talk of who would be the next best thing…Regina would have been it."
Snape pondered this for a moment. "You said it wasn't needed. Why?"
"Regina never understood. The reason no Eternal musician has ever tried to get the Chord is because we all realize that we don't need it. Every one of us at some point in our lives plays the Chord."
"I don't understand," his brow furrowed. "You said it would undo Creation. How then can you play it?"
Hermione shifted slightly and the pajama top she was wearing gaped open slightly. Snape frowned at the ugly bruises on her throat. He touched the damaged skin and Hermione groaned softly and batted away his hand before answering his question.
"Only the whole piece would undo Creation. I never chose to pursue the Eternal pendant is because I didn't think I was ready. And then, this winter, I was practicing…playing spontaneously, with no sheet music…and it happened. I played the most unbelievable variation. I wanted to laugh and cry and scream and be silent all at the same time. That's when I knew I was ready to receive the Eternal Harpist." She studied his face to see if he understood.
"You played a bit of the Chord," he concluded.
"Yes. And it happened because I wasn't playing the music, I was allowing it to create itself. That's what the Chord is: self-creation. Everyone does it, consciously or subconsciously at some point in their lives and it is what fuels the universe. People re-create themselves every day in different ways: changing their make-up, switching jobs, dyeing their hair," she said with a smile. "Eternal musicians never look for the Chord because we hear it and see it all the time."
"Regina thinks it will make her a goddess," Snape said. "She thinks it will give her absolute power over creation and destruction."
"She may be right, in a way. The person who was with me when I played the Chord…he committed suicide two days later. In his note he wrote that 'the music inspired him.' The Chord is powerful, no doubt…much more powerful than Regina. She's not skilled enough to play it. It will consume her and destroy existence," Hermione said quietly. "Which is why we have to stop her. It might have been easier…" she trailed off thoughtfully.
"Easier if what?" he asked carefully. Hermione's eyes refocused on him and she smiled wistfully.
"It might have been easier if Vasili was still alive. I studied with him once, when I was younger…he was the last holder of the Eternal Harpist. Traditionally he would have chosen the next holder, but he died a year ago without selecting a successor. I think he was waiting for me." She shrugged. "Thus it fell to the most skilled harpists remaining."
Snape nodded to himself. "And they might have selected Regina because they did not know what you and your teacher have learned. Why does she have to purify herself?"
Hermione shrugged. "She obtained the key through violence. It will reflect when she tries to enter the temple and play the Chord. The Chord won't be readable. All music is emotion, but the Chord is self-creating and holds all emotion, so it has to be played without the musician influencing its direction too much. Thus, if the musician finds it while contaminated by strong emotion, it will be undecipherable."
"Do you have any idea where it is?" he asked.
"Somewhat," she replied. "But I also know someone with a more exact idea of the location."
Hermione sat up and stretched before rising from the bed. Snape had a sudden passing thought of how sexy she looked clad in his pajama top and tousled with sleep. He pushed it away and tried to focus on what Hermione had just said.
"Severus?" she said, turning. "Are you still with me?"
"Hm?" his eyes refocused and he looked at her. Hermione smiled playfully. "I was asking if you had a spare towel. So I can shower? And where those potions are." Her face went blank for a moment. "Were you thinking of Regina?"
"No," he replied honestly, face relaxing slightly. "I simply wasn't fully awake. There are extra towels in the cabinet in the bathroom. Help yourself. The potions are on the counter and they're labeled. Would you like some breakfast?"
"I'd love some. I didn't get a proper dinner last night."
Snape rose as well, lengthening his muscles in a slow stretch and brushing his hair out of his face. "Is there anything you don't eat?" he asked her. "I'm aware that it's unlikely since Gryffindors are known to eat just about anything, however…"
"Pickiness is a Slytherin trait," she retorted, smiling. "One which I, as a Gryffindor, do not possess. I will gladly eat anything you cook; thank you, sir."
He shot her a bemused look before exiting, but said nothing. Hermione shook herself out of her reverie as he closed the door behind him and peeled off the shirt. She found a spare towel and switched on the shower, busying herself taking potions in order to let the water warm up before getting in. The warm water felt glorious on her sore muscles and she let out a happy sigh. Her back was sore from her encounter with the window, and there was an impressive bruise on the back of her head. She decided that it didn't particularly matter as long as she was alive. Besides, Severus' potions were quite effective. She realized with a start that she had unconsciously begun to pick up his given name…and he had not commented on it. Something about beating the crap out of each other sort of let down some barriers, she decided. She refused to consider other possibilities.
Hermione let the water run down her body for several moments before picking up the bottle of shampoo. She washed her hair three times to rid herself of the temporary hot pink dye, smiling at the scent of cedarwood in the shampoo. When Hermione was relatively sure the dye was out she worked conditioner into her hair and rinsed it after letting it sit for a few moments. After washing the last of the soap from her skin, she stepped out of the shower and began to dry herself off. As an afterthought she grabbed another towel and wrapped it in her hair before tying her bath towel around her body and stepping out of the steamy bathroom. On the counter was an unopened deodorant stick, a wooden comb with thick, widely spaced teeth, and an extra toothbrush. A tube of toothpaste sat near the toothbrush and Hermione brushed her teeth quickly before picking up the deodorant and comb.
"Clothes," she murmured. She walked into the bedroom to grab her dress and saw a set of garments. She picked them up with a raised eyebrow. Underwear, bra, jeans, tank top, and sweater. They all looked approximately the correct size, she noted wryly. Hermione pulled on the black satin bra and panties, both of which fit quite well, and applied some deodorant under her arms. The jeans were a bit loose around the hips and she adjusted them with her wand. The shirt and sweater fit perfectly. The tank top was black and the sweater was, naturally, green.
"Of course he has to rub it in, doesn't he? Figures," she mumbled. She tried vainly to remember why the underwear looked so familiar. The jeans were similar to the ones she usually wore—hip-hugging but flared at the bottom, and the tank top was basic cotton. The sweater was supremely soft, with a v-neck, and was gently form-fitting. She pulled the towel out of her hair let it run wild, tugging the comb through her curls to tame them a bit. She tossed her towels in the hamper, replaced the toiletries, and walked out of the bedroom in bare feet. The living room curtains were open and a brilliant light shone in, reflecting off the carpet. The black leather furniture stood out in stark relief, and the random artwork on the walls splashed the room in brilliant color.
"I trust you had a nice shower," he said from the kitchen without turning. "Breakfast will be ready in a moment."
"I won't ask how you know my underwear sizes," she said in an amused tone. "I'll just pour us both some coffee and wonder to myself."
"I checked the size on your dress and made some guesses," he shrugged. "At least for the underwear. You left your brassiere on the chair with your dress," he admitted a bit uncomfortably.
"Did you just transfigure them?" She took her coffee straight black and boosted herself up on the counter to watch him.
"No. I took a set of my own clean clothes and transfigured them. I assume you paid an obscene amount of money for the dress and would be intolerably indignant if I made it into jeans."
Hermione shrugged. "Yeah, now that you mention it. Thank you for so kindly sacrificing your rather nice clothes for me." He glanced at her warily and she smiled brilliantly.
"Your hair is brown again," he observed.
"Yep, it was temporary dye. Good thing, too…hot pink hair wouldn't have matched this sweater very well. Out of curiosity, how did you pick what to transfigure?"
"I've seen you wear jeans and the tank top and sweater seemed like safe enough choices. The underwear I must have seen in a display somewhere." He shrugged. "I'm hardly familiar with women's underwear. I assumed you'd change them if you didn't like them."
Hermione laughed as she hopped off the counter and took silverware and plates to the glass table in the breakfast area. "You know, you're cleverer than you look," she teased.
"Nine million points from Gryffindor," he responded deadpan. Hermione looked up at him in shock only to see his mouth quirking in a half smile and she mock-glared at him.
"Well ten million from Slytherin," she retorted. "I am Head Girl, after all. I'm sure it's in the contract somewhere…besides, somewhere out there Draco's faithfully breaking ever more rules."
"Probably true," he agreed, setting the omelets and sausage on the table along with some fresh fruit.
They sat and began to eat, pausing only to sip at the coffee. "This is really delicious, sir," Hermione mumbled through a mouthful of eggs. He inclined his head in a gesture of acknowledgement as he popped an orange slice in his mouth.
Hermione took one last bite of her omelet and pushed the plate away, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. She opened her eyes to see Snape frowning at her.
"What?" she asked, surprised.
"I hadn't thought you to be one of those silly girls that eat like a bird," he said scathingly. "I hoped you were more sensible than that."
"Hey now," she said defensively, nose wrinkled. "I eat plenty, thank you very much! Sometimes I eat three large meals and sometimes I like to snack all day. I swear, your commenting my eating habits is a theme."
Snape looked confused. "Don't you remember when we worked on that Crucio healing potion during the war? You said that every time you turned around I was eating. Poked fun at me for days." She pulled a face.
Snape began to chuckle. "Now that you mention it, I believe I do remember that," he admitted. "And you got that same sour expression whenever I brought it up." An odd expression flickered in his eyes as he realized that she had made him laugh twice in the last two days. And he was becoming almost…talkative?
"We need a plan," he said more soberly.
"The first thing I need to do is meet with Norman," she said decisively. "He can give me more of an idea of where the Temple is located. After that, we travel." She shrugged. "It will only take us a day or two to get there, I think. There's a twenty mile radius surrounding the temple where magic won't work. Regina will already be preparing to go there. She can probably do the meditation to purify while she's working her way toward the temple. I'm going to take a leap and guess she's obscenely rich and can hang out in a palanquin or whatever those litters are called while everyone else does the work."
Snape shrugged. "Evil megalomaniacal witches are never poor," he replied sardonically. "It simply wouldn't be fitting." He pushed back from the table and went to the bedroom to take a shower. Hermione furrowed her brow at his abrupt departure before rising and gathered the dishes from the table to clean up. It promised to be a long day.
