Warning
This story is not suitable for readers under the age of sixteen. It contains sexual content, including some non-consensual, and may offend some readers. If this subject is offensive to you, please do not read this story.
Chapter 41 – Ensnaring the Senses
Four o'clock.
It was now two hours after Hermione had said she would come to him, and there had been no sign of her. Snape paced the room, turning occasionally, to stare at the fire or the door, as though visualizing her stepping inside would make it happen. Apprehension turned to anger, then to dread as he paced, weighing the possibilities in his mind and not liking any of the thoughts that came to him. She had said she would be there at two, so either she would not or could not get to him.
A pang of fear touched him as he pictured her injured or trapped somewhere, only to be replaced with revulsion at himself. Am I now so selfish and delusional that I would rather think of her hurt than face the reality of rejection? Accept the truth, he jeered in self disgust. She has made her decision and cannot face telling you!
Of all the things going through Snape's mind, the one thing he was completely sure of was that Hermione loved him. He could see it in her eyes and her smile whenever he was with her, but that did not mean she was prepared to marry him. She had said that it was a big step, and so it was – too big for him to expect her to commit to it right now. Why couldn't he just have left things alone? They had been happy together. True, they had had their high and low points, but they had survived them. Things had been going well, despite Snape's irrational swings between rage and self pity, all of which Hermione had dealt with effectively and with more emotional maturity than he. The one thing that had had the ability to shatter what they shared, was forcing Hermione to consider their relationship in such serious terms as marriage. She was not ready for it, and he should have left well alone. He had ruined everything.
But he could not understand how she could leave him in the dark like this. Her decision was reasonable – inevitable – but it was unlike her to avoid dealing with the issue. Anger began to take hold of his thoughts. It was unlike her, and totally unfair. Whatever her reasons, she had no right to torture him like this with her delay. Damn her! If she had decided not to marry him, as she quite obviously had, then he had a right to know. He stopped pacing, spun on his heel and strode to the fireplace. Reaching to the mantle for the Floo Powder, he flung a handful into the flames, and a moment later was stepping into her room.
It did not come as much of a surprise not to find her there, but it did leave him slightly at a loss as to his next move. Where else could she be? He deserved an answer, even though it would not be what he wanted to hear.
He surveyed the room, as he considered what to do next. He had never been there before, but it was typically 'Hermione', and one glance was enough for him to feel that he knew it well – from the neatly made bed to the book laden shelves above the tidy desk. The only thing in the room that did not fit with this image of precision was the second drawer of the dresser, which was open wide, with items hanging over the edge. With a start, Snape realized that he had been wrong in his assumption that the room was empty, for, staring at him from the drawer, was a large ginger cat.
He had seen Crookshanks once before, but would not have remembered had Hermione not reminded him of it once. He could recall the night vividly, but the presence of the cat in the Shrieking Shack had not been his primary focus at the time. Judging by the animal's lack of interest, it seemed that the meeting had been forgotten by both parties. Still, Snape's smell must be familiar enough to Hermione's pet now, mingled with that of her own.
Damn the girl, where was she?
He was about to turn away and return to the dungeon, when something caught his eye. Stepping up to the cat, which eyed him suspiciously, he stared at the piece of torn fabric that had caught his attention. With a swift movement, he dislodged the surprised cat from its bed, leaving it to fall to the floor, recovering just in time to land on its feet. Snape ignored its whine of protest as he reached out to the torn cloth and held up the ripped remains of the shirt that Hermione had been wearing the night he ... That Night.
As his fingers touched the cotton, he recalled the sound of the tearing as he had ripped it from her body. Images flashed in front of his eyes, of her terrified face and the beautiful body under him. He could feel his arousal as he thought back to the thrill of taking her. He could almost smell her skin, and hear the sound of her pleas as she begged him not to stop. Clutching the shirt to his chest, he closed his eyes, feeling his excitement rise at the memories – her struggling body as he first took her in his arms – her fear as she lay naked and bound on his desk ...
Oh, God, what was he doing?
In horror, he dropped the garment to the floor, and backed away as though it terrified him. What the Hell was happening to him? After everything he knew he had put Hermione through, how was it possible that he could take pleasure in the memory of what he had done? He was being aroused by thoughts of the pain and fear he had caused her. All this time, he had told himself that he had reacted to her body, her eyes, her moans of pleasure, but in that one instant, he had seen the truth. Some part of him, at least, had been aroused by the fear in her eyes, and the idea of taking her by force. Horror overwhelmed him as he realized that at the moment he had first taken her, he had been excited, not only by the fact that it was sex, but also by the knowledge that it was rape.
From the mirror above the dresser, the black eyes of a stranger stared out at him. No – not a stranger, he told himself. He is all too familiar – you have just forgotten. At one time, the agony of others was the only thing that could give you pleasure! You thought that you could change, but this just proves that you are still the same man. The same monster.
There was no longer any doubt in Snape's mind about Hermione's answer. She was young and vulnerable. His act of violation could have reached her on some primitive level – convinced her inexperienced senses that she was in love with him – but being faced with a decision about the rest of her life could have no other effect than to bring sense and reality to the surface. She could never marry such a monster.
He fled through the fire to his own room, as the bile began to rise in his throat.
- - -
In the murky depths of the lake, something was moving.
For almost four hundred years, the dark form known as 'The Guardian' had kept its vigil – watching for merfolk who might stray into the dangerous tunnels. It did not happen often – the entrance to the Guardian's home was well hidden – but occasionally, mischievous young merfolk would explore a little too far. The last time had been several years ago, and the Guardian had watched from the shadows as they played for a while, before chasing them off. It was a solitary beast – necessarily so, because of the nature of its task – but it found the lake's other occupants interesting, on the rare occasions that it saw them. There had been a time when it had found their presence intrusive. They had disturbed its peace with their frequent comings and goings through the caves. It was only once things had changed, and the tunnels had become a danger to the merfolk, that it had ventured from the deepest caverns, and taken on the duty that it still held.
Even during the former days, it had never seen 'airfolk', and never seriously believed that the mythical creatures existed. The idea of anything being able to survive outside the water was no more than the wild fancy of the gullible merfolk. What it had seen today had changed all that, though. Drifting gently through the tunnels, it had reached the largest of the caves, picking the shellfish off the rocks along the way. At first, it had not noticed the still figures laying just beyond the water's edge. When it did spot them, its first thought was that some of the mer children had made it through the tunnels and climbed out of the water. It had been about to drag them back in, and through the tunnels to safety, when it noticed that they were the strangest merfolk it had ever seen, and it moved for a closer inspection.
When the three creatures stirred, it realized that the only explanation was that these were the fabled airfolk. It watched in wonder as they moved away from the water. Their movements were jerky and inelegant, and they seemed confused. Clearly the airfolk had little intelligence, judging by their strange behavior, but something should still be done.
No mer person had ever stayed in the tunnels long enough for the Guardian to see the effects that they would have, but it had been told the consequences would be serious. Maybe it would not be the same for airfolk – they may be able to survive here, unharmed. The three had disappeared into the air tunnels, and the Guardian turned away. There was something about this that felt wrong. It did not relish the thought of leaving the sanctuary of its caves, but it had to get a message to the mer chieftainess.
With trepidation, it left the safety of its home, and ventured out into the open lake.
- - -
Returning to his room from Hermione's, Snape had spent a good part of the next hour emptying his guts. His disgust with himself had been expressed in a very physical reaction, and his body, as well as his mind, felt weak. The passage of time went unnoticed, and more than six hours later, he still sat, unmoving in the doorway to his bathroom, resting against the door jamb and staring, unseeing, at nothing. Hermione's absence from him was now completely understandable. He knew that there was no way she could marry him, and he would have to accept that. No longer waiting for her to arrive, and unable to think clearly about anything, he was simply sitting – his mind numb.
A loud knocking at the door disturbed the silence. For a moment, he thought it must be Hermione, but it was Dumbledore's voice that called his name. Anyone else, and Snape would simply have ignored it, but that was not possible with the headmaster.
As Snape opened the door, Dumbledore was looking older than he had ever seen him. Judging by the expression in his eyes as he regarded the Potions Master, Snape's own appearance had not gone unnoticed, and added to the already worried look on the old wizard's face.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, gravely, "I do not wish to intrude, but we have a serious situation on our hands." As Dumbledore stepped inside his room for the first time ever, Snape's only thought was that he had somehow found out about his proposal, and come to express his concerns, but this thought was pushed aside by his next words. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Miss Granger are in grave danger. I have called the staff together, but I felt I needed to warn you first."
There were only two people, other than Dumbledore, who knew about the tunnels to the lake – McGonagall, as deputy head, and Snape, as head of Slytherin, whose ghost was the first deterrent to keep students away from the dangerous area. As soon as Snape heard where Hermione was, all other thoughts left his head, and he would have headed for the tunnels immediately if Dumbledore had not stopped him.
"No, Severus. You must not go yet," he was told, firmly. "We cannot afford to have more people to search for. You will return to the staffroom with me, while I inform the rest of the staff, and we will tackle this properly." Knowing that it was pointless to argue, Snape turned to head for the staffroom, but was stopped, once again. "And, before we go, you will, please, take a moment to pull yourself together!" Snape stared at the headmaster in anger for a moment, then nodded, resignedly.
By the time the two wizards stepped into the staffroom a few minutes later, there was no evidence of the younger's agitated state of mind. He was impassive and aloof, as always, and if anyone noticed the fact that he was not inclined to make his usual scathing remarks about the Potter boy's recklessness, they would assume it to be because of the seriousness of the situation. Dumbledore stepped to the centre of the room, while Snape stayed close to the door, resting his back against the wall and watching the older man intently.
All the teachers were assembled, sitting or standing around the room, and their soft murmur died to attentive silence as the headmaster spoke.
"I doubt that many of you are aware of the events of 1622, when a valuable item was stolen from the merfolk by a Hogwarts teacher." He spoke quickly, gazing at each member of staff in turn as he addressed them. "The item was eventually recovered, through cooperation between the merfolk and the then headmistress, Sophia Scholl. This cooperation was through the use of a series of tunnels which connected the school to large caverns beneath the lake. Once the thief was apprehended, he was so angry that he placed terrible curses on the tunnels, making them treacherous to anyone entering them. The tunnels were sealed and hidden, both from the Hogwarts end and from the lake itself, so that neither land nor merfolk could enter them." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then continued. "Tonight, I have received word from Mer Chieftainess Murcus that three students were seen inside the caves, from the lake. The three students, who are still missing, are Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger. If we cannot find them quickly, then I fear the worst."
Snape remained silent, but the rest of the staff began to murmur quietly. The voice of Madam Hooch rose above the hum, expressing the thoughts of many. "How do we get to the tunnels?"
The staff fell silent once again, and Dumbledore replied, "The entrance is in the dungeon - in the area haunted by the Bloody Baron. His presence is enough to keep most students away, but the entrance is also heavily concealed as added protection. I do not yet know how the students managed to break through the concealments."
Professor Flitwick, looking tinier than ever, standing in front of the huge gamekeeper, spoke up. "What spells were used on the tunnels?"
Dumbledore shook his head, sadly. "Alas – the complete mix of spells is unknown, but there are many. Forgetfulness, confusion, fear – far more than I am aware of, and all aimed to confuse the senses and keep the unfortunate victim wandering until they simply waste away." His voice was soft but urgent, knowing the need for clarity of information, but also the need for speed. His gaze fell on the Potions Master, then turned away as he got down to business. With calm assurance, he began giving instructions to his staff, and getting them organized. Teachers were sent to each of the houses – not to tell the students anything, but as an assurance against anyone being out of bed at this worrying time. Professor Sprout was requested to find Ginny Weasley, and explain the situation to her. Madam Pomfrey was to prepare for whatever may have happened to the students, in preparation for when they were found. Professor Flitwick would, with Dumbledore himself, be doing everything he could to counteract the effects of the spells around the tunnels, making the search less hazardous for all concerned. The other staff, led by Professors McGonagall and Snape, would be searching the tunnels, reporting back on a regular basis, to ensure that no one was lost.
"Remember," Dumbledore told them, solemnly, "the longer one is in the tunnels, the more serious the effects. That applies to each one of us, as well as to the students who are already there. Speed is imperative."
Snape was very much aware of the need for speed, and had hardly been able to contain himself while waiting to get started. The meeting had taken only a few minutes, but it felt to Snape, as though they had been stalling for hours. It was a tremendous relief when, finally, they were able to head down to the dungeon.
Hermione meant everything in the world to him. If he lost her, he could not go on living.
- - -
Deep beneath the school, Hermione woke in confusion and looked about her. She was in a passageway, at a point where it split in several directions. There was a dim light around her – enough to see her way – but she could not tell the source. Something told her that she should go somewhere, but she had no idea which way, or even where she needed to reach.
Using the wall to steady herself, she pulled herself to her feet. The walls of the tunnel seemed to twist and spin, and she closed her eyes to try to stabilize herself. When she opened them, she felt a little better, but as she took a few steps forward, towards the widest of the openings, her balance failed her. She hit the hard ground with a thud, and a moan of pain. Laying still for a few moments, she tried to get up, but could make no sense of which way was up, nor make her legs do what she wanted them to do. She winced at a pain in her left arm, and looked round to see blood soaking into her robes. She had no memory of hurting herself, but then, she had no memory of anything other than the walls around her. The pain subsided a little as she rested, panting heavily from the exertion of standing.
As she lay there, something caught her eye. It was a chain about her neck, with a pendant in the shape of a small bottle. Something about it looked vaguely familiar, but beyond that she could remember nothing about it. It was pretty, though, and she smiled as she saw it begin to glow.
She tried, once again, to stand, but her head was spinning. Sinking back to the ground, she sighed as her mind drifted into unconsciousness, while her fingers still clutched the glowing pendant.
- - -
Searching the tunnels was far more difficult than Snape had expected. Even with Dumbledore and Flitwick doing everything they could to lessen the effect of the spells, the magic was powerful. It was difficult to focus on what he was doing, and at times, he could hardly remember why he was there. He cast his own spells around himself, but without knowing what he would encounter next, this was not a great deal of help. At one point, he had spent almost twenty minutes going in the same small circle, over and over again, until he realized what he had been doing, and berated himself for allowing it to happen. In another area, he had found himself unable to move forward, then finally found that he was trying to walk through the stone wall of the tunnel, but his senses had been fooled into seeing a way through.
He wondered how many of the same things Hermione had encountered. She had been down here for more than twenty four hours, and had had to counteract the spells without the assistance of Dumbledore and Flitwick. One thing that he was relieved to note, however, was that none of the spells seemed actually to cause direct harm. They simply made the subject confused and lost. Apart from the chance of injury by trying to walk through walls, the biggest dangers were that the effects of the spells on the mind might be permanent if used for too long, or that the unwitting explorer, once lost, would never be found. He had to find her quickly, but he had had no idea how large the tunnels were.
It was Madam Hooch who was the first to find any of the students. Ron had been conscious, but babbling incoherently about frogs, and sitting on the floor with his shoes in front of him, studying his bare feet. Hooch had led him by the hand back towards the castle, with only a minor detour to avoid a large talking pig, which she told Professor Binns, on her return, had blocked her way.
"Now I come to think of it," she had muttered, a little embarrassed, "I might have imagined it."
Snape had found out about this on the first of his check-ins back in the main dungeons. Beyond the door where Ron and Harry had seen the Bloody Baron, there were three large chambers, each protected with a password. Snape was still puzzled about how the students had made it so far, when even he had not known all three of the passwords. The tunnels led from the third chamber, and this was where the staff had set up their base. Dumbledore and Flitwick remained here, facing each other and staring, as though locked in a trance, and Poppy Pomfrey was attending to the Weasley boy, looking worried.
"How bad is it?" Snape asked, trying to sound disinterested.
She gave him a puzzled look at his tone, but told him that she could not be sure just yet. "It is possible that some of the damage could be permanent," she said, unhappily, "but I won't be able to tell for a least a few days. It's a good thing we've got to them now, or this might have been worse."
"They are not all out, yet," Snape snapped, then spun round to return to the search.
It was a long time before he reported back, and people were beginning to worry.
"We thought that we'd lost Hagrid, for a while, Professor Sinistra told him. "When Minerva eventually found him, he was standing with his fingers in his ears and refusing to move."
From the other chamber, Snape could hear the raised voices of the deputy headmistress and the groundskeeper.
"I'm alright!" Hagrid was shouting. "I've got ter go an' get 'Arry and "Ermione!"
Minerva McGonagall's voice was impatient. "I am sorry, Hagrid, but I cannot permit you to go back in there. We do not have the time to search for you as well as the students." With that, she stepped back into the main chamber and almost ran into Sybil Trelawney, who was just returning to report in.
"Alas – I wish the outcome of the day's events would be other than those that fate has set out," she said, mistily, to no one in particular. "The Sight is such a curse when one can see tragedy looming and one is able to do nothing to prevent it!"
Snape pushed past the witch, angrily, but McGonagall caught up with him as he left the chamber.
She touched his arm, conspiratorially. "Don't worry, Severus," she said softly. "As long as Sybil is foretelling doom, we have good reason to hope that all will be well."
- - -
Another hour, and the Potions Master was starting to feel like he had never been anywhere but these tunnels. They seemed to shut out all memory of the outside world, and wend their way into the mind as though they were all that existed. If it had not been for running into the Slytherin ghost as he searched, he might have had to be rescued himself, but the sight of the Bloody Baron was enough to make him focus on the task at hand. His heart leaped as he realized that the ghost had seen something, and was leading him down the tunnels. As he turned a corner, he almost tripped over the unconscious form on the ground. Reaching down, he turned it over, to look into the pale face of the woman he loved.
"Hermione!" With joy and horror combined, he lifted her into his arms, and headed back to the school. She had to be alright. She had to be!
His search had taken him a long way into the maze of passages, and the way back would be just as long. Without the help of the Bloody Baron, who moved ahead, making Snape hurry to keep up with him, it would have taken much longer, but finally, they reached the end of the passages and Snape staggered into the chamber in the dungeons.
Exhausted, he lay Hermione's limp body on a stone bench, and knelt beside her, supporting her head tenderly with his arm. Her breathing was shallow and weak, and her face showed no hint of awareness. Leaning forward, he touched his forehead to hers as he recovered his breath.
"Hermione," he murmured softly, then gently kissed her lips.
A gasp from behind him made the outside world, forgotten for a while, come to his mind. Without releasing Hermione, still held in his arms, he looked about him.
The room was full. Harry had, evidently, been found and was laid next to Ron, who was now sedated. The worried form of Hagrid knelt beside them. McGonagall was standing over the two boys, her hand resting lightly on the shoulder of a teary Ginny Weasley, who sat next to her brother. In the corner, Madam Pomfrey was handing a vial of liquid to Madam Hooch, and Dumbledore and Flitwick were finally stirring from their exhaustive trance. With the exception of the unconscious students, every eye in the room was on Professor Snape and the girl in his arms.