Chapter 6
It was shaping up to be a very long morning. Already she, Morganna, Harry and Ron had been mobbed four times, once by each house, and it didn't seem as if it were going to let up now that they were sitting down for breakfast.
Next to her, Morganna flirted vivaciously with Harry. "Harry you wouldn't guess the dream I had last night." Morganna exclaimed as she daintily put her fork down and batted her eyelashes. "It was so strange. There I was out in the middle of the Quidditch field--not knowing a single thing about the sport--and I was getting really worried; when who shows up on a racing broom, but you! Well, I was so excited, I couldn't help but hug you in my dream." She giggled and Hermione and Ron nearly gagged on their Eggs Benedict. "I can't wait for you to show me everything there is to know about Quidditch. I'm just so excited!"
The bright pink hue of Harry's cheeks was all Hermione and Ron had to see to know they were now officially out of the conversation all together. With a roll of his eyes, Ron turned to Hermione. "Morganna was talking to Harry this morning, said something about you telling Snape off last night? What's all that about?"
It was Hermione's turn to go pink. She turned away from Ron, pretending to find something at the far end of the table interesting. But she'd ended up looking to her left, and that took her wandering eyes straight to the staff table, and the unmistakable dead lock gaze of Professor Snape.
For a moment they stared at each other, neither looking away or even attempting too. It was as if they were locked onto one another by some sort of bind spell. His eyes were black as midnight, but just then, there was something very strange burning deeply in them; eyes that had seen far too much for one man to sleep well at night.
God, the nightmares he must have. To have been a DeathEater, to have walked the path of pure evil and returned to the side of good, how different he must feel from all those around him. How…lonely.
"Hermione, are you going to answer me, or just stare off into space until first period." Ron hissed, and the sound of his voice threw Hermione back into their conversation. Flustered by her previous thoughts, she stole a glance back at the staff table, but Snape was glancing down at his breakfast while the headmaster laughed over something.
Giving herself a mental shake, Hermione turned to answer Ron. "It wasn't anything. He kept stopping on the way to the med wing, and it was making me sick every time my head hit his shoulder. He and Morganna were having a tiff and I just got tired of the world spinning. I did have a concussion if you'll recall." She gave Ron her patented "you should have figured that out already" look, but it was ruined when Morganna heard her name and added her two cents.
"Ron, Hermione was so totally cool! Uncle Severus was being a total spaz about the whole single file line thing, and Hermione laid into him about yelling at me in front friends. By the way Mione, thanks, that was totally superstar of you." Morganna bubbled, leaning over at the end to give Hermione a tight squeeze. If she hadn't been looking right at him, Hermione would have missed the longing look on Harry's face when she received that mark of affection from the singer.
Boys.
She rolled her eyes for the second time that morning. "Yes, Morganna, it was totally superstar of me, it bought me another weeks worth of detention. I swear, I don't know when I'm going to find time to tutor you, get my own work done, keep Ron and Harry from getting into too much trouble, and do three weeks worth of detention with Snape!" She threw her hands up. "I might as well just become a Slytherin!"
"A plague! A plague on your house for suggesting such a travesty!" Called George from three seats down, as he shook his fork at her menacingly, spilling egg yoke everywhere as he did so.
From next to him, Fred's hand came up and knocked his twin on the back of the head. "You, idiot! We're in her house! And don't go around talking about plagues, remember what happened the last time you quoted Shakespeare like a dolt, we had three feet of water in the house and Ginny had to bunk up with us for a month." Next to Harry, it seems it was Ginny's turn to go pink.
"Whoa!" Cried Ron. "How did you manage to get detention for three weeks? And with Snape? Better yet, since when did you start getting detention at all?"
Harry butted in then. "Yeah Hermione, you said Snape gave you an extra weeks worth of detention, how did you get the other two weeks?"
That was a very simple and logical question, Hermione reasoned, and she was proud of Harry for figuring out the obvious. She also, had no intention of answering that particular question, now or ever.
Standing quickly, she stepped over the bench. "I'd love to tell you Harry, but I promised to show Morganna where all of her classes are for the day." She gave her friend a not so gentle tug to get her out of her seat. "If I have time, I'll tell you between first and second today." Grabbing a hold of Morganna's sleeve and ignoring the girl's perplexed look, Hermione offered her cutest fake smile. "See you both in Defense Against the Dark Arts," before racing from the main hall, dragging Morganna with her.
Half way up the main staircase, Morganna managed to break free. "Ok, that was ubber weird. You wanna explain now, or should I just assume that I did ask you to show me my classes--before class. Really Hermione, what do you think I am, a study freak? What do I care where my classes are? Besides, if I was going to ask someone to show me where my classes were it'd be--hey! Where are you going?" At once, Morganna took off up the stairs to catch up with Hermione who'd failed to stop for Morganna's self-absorbed tantrum.
Over her shoulder, she threw back her explanation. "It's no big deal. I said something stupid and your uncle heard me, he got angry, I got detention, it's actually quite dumb--"
Suddenly Morganna raced in front of Hermione and cut her off, blocking her only escape route from the inevitable look in those icy blue eyes. "Not even going to fly, Mione. What the hell did you say? Uncle Severus is totally cool about almost everything, whatever you managed to say to rile him up must have been something big."
Not wanting to answer the question, Hermione tried to sidestep her, but ended up bouncing off a non-dress-code rhinestone encrusted sleeve cuff. "Uh uh, Hermione, I want the dirt, and I want it now." The evil glint that was starting to become Morganna's trademark flashed suddenly to Hermione's horror. "You either tell me what happened, or I'll bring it up at the most horribly, awful, embarrassing moment and way imaginable, and you know I've got the imagination to do it." She smiled, showing perfectly straight teeth. "So, "miniskirt" story in the middle of the common room, or the dirt. What's it going to be?"
Hermione knew she had two options, the first was to tell Morganna the truth and hope for the best, the second was to lie through her teeth--no one could learn anything more about the miniskirt episode!
She chose to lie.
"If you're that curious about it, I, um, told him that he needed to wash his hair." God, she wished she was a better liar.
Morganna snorted. "Nice try, but I know you, and not even you would do something that American. So what really happened? I promise not to tell anyone, not even Harry and Ron. Well, ok, maybe Harry, if he asked me, because I don't want any secrets between us. Harry seems like the kind of guy that wants an honest and open relationship. You know, someone he can get an honest opinion from."
Hermione pressed her sudden advantage. "You mean, someone like you?" She smiled, knowing she'd managed to distract Echo with his own reflection.
"Hermione!" Morganna playfully slapped her arm. "Of course I mean me. Harry and I are perfect for each other. My life is an open book, and Harry, well, Harry's just perfect. I mean, the way he handled that Lord What's-his-name, and--"
Aghast, Hermione turned. "'Lord What's-his-name?' Morganna, has your head been stuck under a rock for the last twenty years?! Voldemort is not a 'What's-his-name' he's the most dangerous wizard of all time, and you don't even know his name?!"
For a moment, the raven haired girl looked perplexed as she tried to think her way though the accusation. "Wait, I thought you Brits didn't like calling him by his name, scared of it or something. Don't you call him Lord What's-his-name?"
In a move Hermione had never made before in her life, she slapped her hand to her forehead. "Morganna, the correct title is 'You-Know-Who' not 'Lord What's-his-name'! Good lord, don't they teach you anything in America?"
Morganna's retort was cut short as the bells tolled for first class. Frustrated by her inability to respond to such a claim, Morganna spun on her heals. "Whatever Hermione. I'll have you know that in America, we don't care about 'Lord What's-his-name' or whatever else you want to call him. Remember, America, land of the free and home of the brave." She paused at the bottom of the stairs for Hermione to catch up as the other students began to file out of the main hall. "Come to think of it, maybe Harry's American, I mean he is super brave."
For the rest of the five minute walk to the other side of the campus, Hermione smiled sweetly as Morganna once again ran through Harry Potter's amazing feats of grandeur, most of which she and Ron had contributed quite unseeingly too.
At the classroom, Morganna spotted Harry and forced Ron into the next row so that she and Harry could sit together. "Come on Ron, I'm going to need all the help I can get in this class." She turned to Harry and once again batted her eyelashes. "I mean, there are monsters in Defense Against the Dark Arts, aren't there Harry? I'm not so great at wand work, what with all my rehearsals. You wouldn't mind looking out for me, would you?" As Harry sputtered his single-minded devotion to protecting Morganna from the likes of banshees and dementors, Hermione slipped into the seat next to Ron.
As Professor Lupin entered the classroom and readied things at the front, Ron turned to Hermione and whispered. "You know, not that I don't like her or anything, but that girl is awful pushy."
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but you have to admit, Harry's not discouraging her."
Ron looked in front of them to Morganna who was drawing some ridiculous picture on Harry's parchment while the Boy Who Lived, watched in complete rapture. "Gaw, Hermione, you don't think they're going to be like that all year long, do you?"
Hermione shrugged, "Only if Harry's the stupidest boy on the planet." Suddenly, a terrifying thought crossed her mind, and she moaned before dropping her head onto her folded arms. "Oh Ron, they'll be like this until they're sixty if we wait for Harry to figure things out on his own," came her muffled response.
At the soft patting on her back, Hermione looked up at her dearest friend. "Cheer up Hermione, at the rate they're going I think we only have to wait until Harry's forty or so." Hermione gave another moan, but Ron just smiled. "Fortunately for him, his best friends happen to be rather smart about these things."
Sitting up straight at that, Hermione gave him a withering look. "And just what do you know about having a girl like you?"
Ron blushed then, a bright red that made each and every one of his freckles stand out. "Nothing, never mind."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Ronald Wesley, what aren't you telling me?"
"It's nothing, geesh. Look, Lupin's ready, let's listen." Hermione didn't know what was more startling, the fact that Ron might have some love experience she didn't know about, or the fact that he was avoiding the question by actually focusing on studying.
It was a very, very, very long class, one in which Hermione and Ron both vowed would be spent from now on, in the row in front of Harry and Morganna. All through class they flirted, even earning a stern reprimand from Lupin that washed over Harry like water off a grindylow. That boy was smitten, and it was disgusting to watch.
As the class broke for second period, the four of them met in the hallway along with Ginny.
"Wait, I thought all students in the same grade and house took the same classes together. How come Hermione doesn't have divinations next?" Morganna asked as she leaned back against the stone wall, one foot braced back against it.
Harry chose to answer that simple question. "Hermione's too logical for divinations. She and Professor Trelawney had it out a few years ago and since then, she's been studying Arithmancy instead."
"Yeah," Ron interjected. "We'd let Hermione tell you about Arithmancy, but it'd be next week before she'd finish and I rather like the tea in Divinations."
Morganna wrinkled her nose. "Tea? Don't you people drink coffee? That nice British guy from Buffy the Vampire Slayer drank coffee and he got the girl. Maybe you guys should consider the switch." She smiled, as Ron and Harry looked at each other, both weighing the merits of coffee drinking vs getting the girl. "Anyway," Morganna continued. "Let's get going. I like all that future reading stuff. Tarot cards are so cool."
That know-it-all tone rang crystal clear when Hermione spoke about her most hated subject. "Tarot cards, tea leaf reading, and other such nonsense is just that, nonsense. You can't tell the future, no one can."
"Um, Hermione." Harry interjected. "Maybe that's true, but at least Ron and I are getting good marks in that class, and being as how it's the only one you don't have to tutor us in, maybe we'll just keep going."
She hated it when Harry tried to keep the peace, it usually worked. "Fine, go off to that stupid class. I've got a free period until third. I'll meet you three outside Snape's classroom. I think I'll go visit Hagrid, I haven't had much of a chance to see him yet."
They broke then, Morganna hanging off Harry's spellbound arm, and Ron mocking the both of them while Ginny giggled beside her brother. Hermione watched them go before setting off towards the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's home.
It was still early September, and the temperature was warm enough that Hermione removed her outer robe. Clad in the uniform of a black skirt and white blouse, she made her way across the sun drenched grass. But as she neared the home, the sounds of oooing and awing first years reminded her that Hagrid was once again teaching Care of Magical Creatures.
Adverse to bothering any learning experience, Hermione turned around and headed back towards the Gryffindor tower; but the sun was too inviting, and her lack of sufficient schoolwork, propelled her instead towards the lake, where she set down her robe and sat on it.
Knowing the bells would awaken her, Hermione hitched up her skirt a bit more than would be considered decent, before rolling up her sleeves and unbuttoning the first four buttons on her shirt. Laying back, she stretched out, letting the sun sooth and warm her as she mentally prepared herself for Morganna and Harry, Ron's love life, and her impending three weeks of Snape detention.
Sighing, she realized it might take a bit more than just the sun to help her weather these storms.
* * *
She was doing this to torture him.
The room was cold as ice despite the roaring sun on the other side of the stone wall. Heavy shadows hung upon everything as candlelight flickered. Pages in the open books fluttered in the chilly breeze that was always prevalent in the dungeons, and most especially in Professor Severus Snape's class room.
However, Severus didn't notice the cold, indeed he was presently undoing the top button of his robe as his eyes fixated on the small blond sunbathing by the lake.
Nothing about the scene seemed real to him. The sea of green grass folded around her, making her pale perfection stand out beautifully. Her hair seemed cast in gold as the sun reflected off it and the warm breeze sent a few strands dancing on the wind.
Hermione's eyes were brown like liquid chocolate.
He'd been startled when she'd caught him staring at her during breakfast, and when their eyes had caught and held, he'd had plenty of time to memorize their color. But he'd had a chance to look at more than just her beautiful eyes. Her nose was perfect, round and cute, with just a slight upturn that most would say defined her demeanor. Her cheekbones were prominent, and when she blushed they lit up lovely, adding more color to the mix. She had plump lips, full and red, perfect for handling every emotion a mouth should partake in, and every action as well.
Hermione Granger's body was perfect.
He could see that now. Under the robes of Hogwarts, she was a living sculpture. She was taller than most of the other girls, a fact brought upon by her Time-Turner enhanced growth spurt, but even so, she didn't even come up to his shoulders. She had what most would call birthing hips, wide and round, accentuating her slim waist and near perfect hourglass frame. And her hands, long slim fingers that would one day drip with the gold he'd shower upon her; would one day where the Dragon's Tear Diamond wedding ring tucked safely away in his chest.
Mellisson's wedding ring.
Startled, Severus backed away from the window and the image of Hermione relaxing. Without any remorse, he'd just considered using his dead wife's wedding ring to marry another.
Disgust washed over him and with a sharp turn, Severus moved deeper into the cold room and took his seat before the massive spell books.
He tried to concentrate on the Memory enhancing potion he was preparing to teach his third period students--Hermione's class--but his easy way of dismissing Mellisson ripped at his heart. With a sigh he pushed away from the desk and returned to the window.
She was beautiful.
He fancied she was asleep, warm and comfortable. Try as he might, he couldn't help but think someday she might feel that way in his presence; Mellisson had.
Severus closed his eyes. Twenty years ago it had been Mellisson out in that sea of grass. Her long white hair had caught in the wind just as he was coming from the library. He'd never forget the sight as long as he lived. She'd been laughing about something, her smile large and open, full and honest as the wind had tugged at her clothes and hair. He'd been spellbound by her beauty, mesmerized as he stood there, his books and homework forgotten. The moment had seemed to last forever and yet was over in a second, but it was enough. He'd vowed to talk to her, the dark and nearly silent Severus Snape, and he had. Like a fool he'd waked right up to her and offered his name. She'd been startled at first, but had offered her name in return and given him a smile before walking back towards the Ravenclaw Spiral. But the thing that stuck in his mind the most, the one thing that had offered him all the encouragement he'd needed, was that the lovely Mellisson of Ravenclaw had turned at the door and offered him a cocotte smile.
He doubted very much if Hermione Granger knew how to offer a smile like that.
He sighed as his eyes opened; it didn't matter, he was smitten anyway. Mellisson had been all soft lines and melodic voices; she's been silk and satin, a soothing balm to his otherwise dark existence. But Hermione wasn't soft or melodic, she wasn't silk at all, more like something classic and durable. She was the type of woman that could eat dinner without you if you were late, but wouldn't give you the satisfaction of keeping any warm for you. She would be the type to forgo the flowers and candy at Valentines Day and request something practical like a blender.
On the other hand, Hermione was also the type to say one thing and yet want another. She'd eat alone without complaint but silently cry herself to sleep. She'd ask for the practical but desperately desire the romantic. She was the kind to want adventure but settle comfortable if not wistfully for the mundane--but Severus had not intention of wasting such a woman with the ordinary.
He'd arrive home every night, exactly at six o'clock not because she'd cry without him there, but because he couldn't stand to be away from her longer than absolutely necessary. He'd promise her the blender and provide it, while secretly hiding the roses and jewelry box behind his back. He'd love her, adore her, worship her like no one else, because no one else could see how truly extraordinary she was. He'd kiss her every morning, worship her body every night, and fill the day with heavy anticipation for both. She wasn't Mellisson, wasn't soft and needy, she was confident and passionate, a true Gryffindor.
That thought brought a smile to his lips. He, a Slytherin, falling so completely for a Gryffindor girl, it was almost laughable, and yet completely understandable. Slytherins and Gryffindor's were opposites, just as Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Opposing houses could rarely stand the others company, and yet in terms of opposites they were so perfectly matched.
Severus looked out into the rippling lake. Slytherin and Gryffindor fights were legendary, and he had no doubt that he and Hermione's would be as well. Too similar and yet too different, they were cursed to understand and despise each other for a lifetime.
The lifetime they'd spend together.
Sudden movement caught his eye, and he watched almost stunned as Hermione sat up and began to gather her things together. It was then he noticed the tolling of the bells that signaled third period and the eminent arrival of both the object of his affections, and his lovely daughter.
Morganna.
He groaned as he turned back to his desk. As if his thoughts of Hermione weren't confusing enough, he now had to come to terms with the fact that she was best friends with his secret daughter. A cold hand suddenly squeezed his heart and forced him stone still. How could he do it; the constant and beautiful reminder of his lost wife, and the radiantly smart subject of his new affection? Would he be forced to look into Morganna's eyes--perfect recreations of her mother's--and know his sins were too great, his crimes against his lost love too grand to ever hope to pursue a new one? Would the guilt consume him, force all thoughts of Hermione into the same category he used when thinking about his necessary crimes as a DeathEater? How would he ever survive the guilt of those crystal blue eyes when all he wanted to do was melt into sable ones?
Not for the first time, as Severus moved deep into the dark supply closet, he considered that life was very seldom fair.
* * *
"Um, uh, Hermione?" Came Neville's shaky voice from just inside the dungeon corridor as Hermione stepped through and began to button up her robe against the cold.
"Hello Neville, how was your holiday?" She asked politely as she finished her buttoning and began to walk towards the deepest and darkest part of the dungeon.
The plump boy quickly gathered his things and raced after her, tripping twice on the uneven stone before he reached her. "Hermione, um, I was wondering…now that your you, um, friend is going to Hogwarts, you're going to be her potions partner, aren't you?"
She heard it immediately, the slight shaking of Neville Longbottom's voice, the deeply rooted fear that without her help he'd never survive five minutes in Snape's classroom. He was probably right, Snape had had it in for Neville almost since the very first day, if Hermione abandoned him to his own devices, the boy would be melting cauldrons and blowing stuff up before the second stirring.
Sighing, Hermione offered her long time potions partner a smile before placing her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry Neville, Morganna's been teaming up with Harry so far, and I doubt potions will be much different, besides, we've been partners forever, why would I ever pick anyone else?"
Few people were kind to the disorganized and clumsy Longbottom, and it showed in the enormous smile that graced his face, and the tears of relief that were just beginning in his eyes. "Thank you Hermione, thanks ever so much!"
Offering him another smile she sent him inside to claim their usual work bench before standing against the outer wall to wait for her friends. Unfortunately, she should have known better then to be waiting in the Slytherin domain with no one to back her up.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the mudblood, back for another try at being a real witch."
Turning her head just slightly to the right, Hermione came face to face with Malfoy and his band of Slytherin groupies. He looked different from last year. His hair was longer now and tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He'd grown too, and was quickly approaching six feet. Long and skinny, with skin as pale as death, he looked like a dignified ghost come to terrorizes her with his calculating beady eyes. Surrounded by his usual bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle, and a few other hangers on, Hermione felt the sudden and real chill of fear. She might be smarter and braver than Malfoy, but he was still quicker with wand magic, and while he had his wand tucked safely in his sleeve, hers was tucked neatly away in her bag.
Deciding brains had to win over brawn today, she tipped her nose up at him and turned away. "Say whatever you'd like Malfoy, it doesn't hurt me. I know exactly what I'm capable of, regardless of what you and your lackey's think flows through my veins."
"Mud." Came Goyle's gruff response followed by the sniggers of the others. Only Draco refrained, staring at her intently, with eyes like icicle daggers.
Unnerved, Hermione turned away again. "We'll see about that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm waiting for someone."
Pansy Parkinson suddenly started to giggle like a hyena. "Are you hoping that Wesley and Potter can turn you into a real witch, Granger? And here I thought that Quidditch player had already tried and decided you weren't worth the effort?"
Damn that girl! Hermione thought as her cheeks turned pink at the mention of Viktor. That wound was still open and raw. The thought that her hopes could be so easily dashed because she lacked wizarding parents, it stung her pride and threatened to dash her dreams.
Angry, and still smarting from Viktor's rejection, Hermione turned on Parkinson with a vengeance. "Contrary to popular opinion I am a real witch, you two bit wand waver!" The hallway fell silent. "Name any subject, any technique--even divinations--and I would still beat you hands down every time! So next time you want to imply something about sex Parkinson, maybe you should make sure you're not hanging off the coattails of Malfoy and all his money first!"
She saw Pansy go for her wand as if in a dream. One minute she was seething with anger, the next she was diving to the right, avoiding a rather ugly curse. She slammed into the stone wall hard, wrenching her shoulder before rolling out of the fall. Her wand was over five feet away, bundled up tight in her satchel, there was no way she was going to get out of this unscathed.
Another curse flew her way, as Parkinson started screaming holy hell at her. Ducking just in time, the curse crashed into the wall and sent chips of stone everywhere, a few cutting tracts into her hands and cheek.
She tried to get up, thinking she could rush the girl and wrestle the wand away, but as she rose, her foot caught in the hem of her robe and she fell down with a crash, letting out a loud cry as her injured shoulder once again hit the pavement.
The gleam in Parkinson's eyes was deadly as she raised her wand once more for the final curse, and though Hermione hated to admit it, she was well and stuck, still trying to free her leg from the twist of robes.
"Arachnofitus!" It was aimed right at her face, but at the last second she twisted again, so the curse hit her shoulder with a pain so brilliant, she saw stars. She heard her name being called, at least she thought she did, but the painful radiation of the curse had ceased, replaced now by a heart stopping feeling.
She was screaming before her brain knew what was going on, and when it finally figured it out, it could come up with only one word, "SPIDERS!"
They were all over her, covering her shoulder, crawling into her hair, making their way under her robes to sink their oversized pinchers into her flesh. There were hundreds and each brush of leg, each prick of pain sent her voice higher and higher until she was deaf with the sound of her own voice.
Suddenly, hands were everywhere, smacking at her, brushing at her robes, and as she continued to scream, there were other voices, ones chanting her name as they swept the spiders from her face and hair first.
"Hermione, stop moving!" Morganna! That was Morganna! Hermione opened her eyes to try and locate her friend, but a spider was just crawling over her cheek and she screamed again at the horror that sight instilled in her.
"We've gotta get her robes off fast!" Her mind was going numb from shock, she could tell because the first thought that came to her mind was that Ron hated spiders and yet he was trying to help her. Then one of the eight-legged devils tried to crawl into her ear and let loose another round of terrified screams. Tugs on her clothes quickly loosened the robes, but the arachnids had already made it past that level, and as they skittered under her shirt and down the front of her shirt, Hermione thought she'd pass out.
She thought she was a goner when she heard loud barking and growling, the awful feeling of spiders was soon overcome by the ripping and tearing of claws and canine teeth. She was lost, terrified and in pain. She fought against this new attacker, screaming when she felt those teeth grab a hold and pull her shirt off, turning her body around and around in the process so that she could feel the crunch and deaths of dozens of spiders under her flesh.
And then she was saved. "Elimerachtate!" She felt the difference instantly. No more bugs, no more creeping crawling spiders traversing her flesh, marking her body. The crawling from her hair was gone, and her face was free of hairy little legs.
"Hermione!" Came Morganna's voice as her friend tried to hold her. But she couldn't do it, could stand it. With another scream she wrenched herself way from those comforting arms and backed her body into a corner of the stone wall, crying softly and rocking back and forth.
"Inside, all of you, now!" Came the voice of her savior once again, and that one voice, more than the others made it through her rattled brain.
"But, uncle--"
"NOW!"
Through her sobs she heard the sound of shuffling feet and whispers until a deafening slam marked the final closing of the potions room door. She was alone.
Hands suddenly fell onto her bare shoulders and she cried out, trying desperately to get away from the gentle but cold grip. "Her--Miss Granger, can you hear me?" The voice was soft, gentle almost, with a strange caring quality she'd never heard before, well, maybe once before, back at Gram's house.
Her eyes came up, frantic and wild as she locked her gaze with Snape's. It was him alright, hooked nose, greasy black hair, and beady black eyes; not that she cared.
With a sob she buried her face against his chest. Her claw like hands gripped his robes as she did her best to crawl inside them, to escape the terror she'd just endured. She couldn't catch her breath, and great sobs stole it before she could use the oxygen to scream. Tears soaked the front of his robe, but she didn't care, nothing else mattered but that the spiders were gone, and she was safe as long as she stayed right where she was, tucked against Severus Snape.
"Snape, she's in a bad way." The voice was low and gruff, and Hermione had a hard time hearing it over the sound of her own relief. "We need to get her to Poppy." Sirius, that was Sirius; and the dog, those claws and teeth, that must have been him as well. She'd been saved by a shapeshifting fugitive and the meanest potions master in all of England.
The giggles started half way between a particularly terrible sob and another flood of hiccups. They were soft at first, but quickly rose in both pitch and speed as the situation came into focus. Here she was, a Gryffindor, curled up tighter than a potatobug against one of the most hated men in the wizarding world, relying on him to comfort her after his own house had done this to her. Oh, that was rich.
"Snape?"
The pull was gentle but firm as Snape pulled her half-naked form against his chest and lifted her as he rose. "She's in shock. Fetch Remus to teach in my place." And then they were turning, moving away from the light and the sanctuary of the sun.
A shuffling sound halted their retreat as Sirius raced to get in Snape's path and Hermione's giggles were renewed now that Snape was once again carrying her to safety. "Where the hell do you think you're going? The medical wing's in the other direction." Came a most protective growl. "Give her to me Snape, I'll take her."
NO!
She had no idea what came over her, but with a terrified scream, she sat up against Snape's chest and threw her arms around his neck, her giggles now whimpers of terror. Severus had saved her, he'd been the one to finally stop those things from hurting her, he couldn't leave her, couldn't just hand her over! Her arms tightened even more.
"Shhhhh, hush Hermione," came a very gentle and soothing voice. "You're safe now, Luv, shhhhhh." She whimpered against him, and burrowed further into his neck when she felt his thumb gently caress her arm in comfort.
The shock of the situation was evident in Black's voice. "What the hell, Snape?"
The cold bite was once again in Snape's voice, even as he continued his thumb's gentle caress against her chilled and shaking flesh. "Out of my way, Black!" He took one step forward, and another back as Sirius moved again to block his path.
"What did you just call her?"
Suddenly the chill in the air was frigid and Hermione whimpered again as her tears fell and she tried to shrink away from Black's voice. But when Severus spoke, though Hermione didn't quite understand everything that was said, she knew it did the trick when they started moving again. "A man has many secrets Black, just as you and Remus seem to have one of your own. Now get Lupin down here to teach my class, or not even Albus will be able to protect Remus when I expose the mutt for the murderer."
What she heard from that point on was the soothing heartbeat that belonged to Severus Snape as he carried them both deeper and deeper into the bowels of a frozen hell.