Chapter Twenty One
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The narrow entrance to the cave was almost concealed by plants that had grown wild across the entrance, unhindered by man, and in the balmy light of the summer evening, there wasn't a rustle or a twitch from the foliage. The rocky outcrop was bare, but sheltered by the craggy cliffs that rose above it, it was no doubt protected from the worst of the stormy Scottish weather.
Hermione picked her way up the narrow dirt path towards the entrance, tripping over stones that she was sure hadn't been there before. The last rays of the sun fell on her face, and she tilted up to the brightness and let it warm her cheeks. She paused to catch her breath, and glanced over her shoulder.
Further down the slope there was a motley collection of houses and shops that made up the village of Hogsmeade, and in the distance the towering spires of Hogwarts gleamed against the horizon.
Hermione hitched up her robes and took the last few steps up to the outcrop in front of the cave. She wiped her sweaty palms on her robes, and then she pushed through the bushes and overhanging vines, and into the dark cavernous space beyond.
The cave looked bigger inside than it had during the period it had been occupied by Sirius Black, but the rats hadn't changed. One scuttled across Hermione's foot, and she kicked it away irritably. The air inside was steamy and hot, and the scent of peppermint pervaded every corner, making Hermione's nose prickle.
A cauldron bubbled over a crackling fire in the centre of the floor. It belched clouds of green smoke, and in the light of several glowing orbs suspended near the ceiling, the smoke formed eerie twisting patterns.
Severus looked up from his seat in the corner, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He nodded briefly at Hermione, but he was wielding a silver knife with exquisite carefulness to dice salamander scales, and he didn't pause in his activity. Hermione stepped delicately over a pile of bags, and sat down on a large rock near the cauldron.
Severus stood, and lifted the wooden chopping board. With an expert motion he used the silver knife to flick the scales into the cauldron, and the potion within immediately turned a frothing red. Hermione waved her wand at the flames, and they quietened down to a gentle burn. The potion ceased frothing and began to bubble sluggishly.
When Severus arched an eyebrow at her Hermione shrugged.
"It works better if you lower the heat at the last minute," she said.
That information wouldn't be published for another eight years, but there was no need to tell Severus that.
Severus sniffed irritably at her, and inspected the potion closely as if to check she was correct. When he couldn't find anything wrong with the brew he frowned, pulled a notebook from one of the bags, and began to jot down notes. Finally he closed the book with a snap and walked over to her.
"It's perfect. Are you ready?" Severus asked.
Tension leaked from his every movement, and he didn't make eye contact. Hermione didn't have the additional energy to try and moderate his mood.
"Yes," she said shortly.
Hermione stretched out a hand and pulled the silver knife from Severus's grasp. He gave it up easily, and retreated to stand over the cauldron. In the firelight, lightly sweating from the heat, his hair greasy from the potions fumes, he had never looked more like his future adult self.
Hermione unbuttoned her robes, shrugging out of them. Severus didn't say a word, but his eyes popped. Hermione supposed it wasn't surprising that a boy who had spent his formative years at Hogwarts would be taken aback when faced with a tank top and hot pants. She didn't have time to get blood on her nice robes.
With the silver knife in hand Hermione rummaged through the bag she had brought, and took out a thick leather belt. She cut a section of it off, and tested it experimentally between her teeth. It was solid, and wouldn't be bitten through easily. She set it down, and then looked around for a suitable place to sit. The back of the cave had a smooth patch of earth, and she pulled out a spare cloak and spread it on the dirt.
"Hermione," Severus said.
Hermione didn't answer, as she reached for the bag of potions ingredients. At the very bottom the brown paper package waited. It was damp and heavy in her hands, and squirmed unpleasantly. Hermione's stomach flipped so violently that she felt the sharp acid of vomit rising up her throat, and ruthlessly clamped down upon her will. This was no time for weakness.
"Hermione," Severus tried again, but she ignored him.
Hermione carried the package to the back of the cave, and settled herself down on the ground. She summoned a large rock with a flattish surface, and stretched her left forearm out upon it like a chopping block, experimentally, turning it over and looking at it dispassionately.
The scarred letters had faded a little over the years, but they had only dulled from a livid red to an angry maroon. Hermione supposed that given enough years the scars might have even faded to white. But they would not have that opportunity now. Even under the dim light they were easy to see; the distortion in her flesh cast shadows across her arm.
"Hermione."
Severus stood, impatient with her refusal to answer.
"Don't come over here," Hermione warned. "Just have the potion ready."
"I want to help you," Severus said quietly.
Hermione picked up the piece of leather, and weighed it in her hand.
"You cannot help me," she said, afraid at the tremor would reach her voice and Severus would realise that she was so terrified that she was on the verge of breakdown. Only finishing the task could alter that.
"What's on your arm?" Severus asked, walking over and looking down. Hermione scrambled backwards, but it was too late. She glared up at him, anger briefly overtaking her fear.
"How dare you," she began, but faltered at the look on Severus's face.
"Mudblood?" Severus said, staring at Hermione. "Who the hell cut that into you? What…? Hermione, what is going on here?"
Hermione felt her palms sting, and looked down to realise that she'd clenched her fists so hard that her nails had broken through the skin of her palms. She looked away, feeling the blood dribble down her fingers.
"Torture doesn't always have to make sense," she said.
"But why would -"
"Shut up!" Hermione voice was near hysteria, and Severus stepped back quickly.
"Don't talk to me," she said, her breath beginning to come in pants. "Just have the potion ready."
Before Severus could reply, Hermione jammed the thick leather between her teeth, and unwrapped the brown paper that contained the flesh eater.
It was a revolting sight. An amorphous, undulating blob about half the size of a human head. It had the appearance of red jelly, but somehow held its shape. It twitched when the light touched it, and although Hermione knew that the flesh eater came from a plant and was not sentient, a part of her felt certain that it understood what was going on. It looked, to her eyes, hungry.
Severus made a disgusted noise, and Hermione laid her left arm out on the stone block. Then she took hold of the silver knife, and carved off a section of the red jelly. Taking a deep breath, she bit down as hard as she could on the leather between her teeth, and used the silver knife to spread the red substance over her arm like she was buttering a piece of bread.
The pain was instantaneous and extreme.
Hermione tipped her face to the ceiling and screamed, the belt between her teeth barely muffling the sound of it. It felt as though a thousand tiny scalpels were carving away at her flesh, scraping carefully between each and every blood vessel, breaking down the scar tissue and buffering her bones clean.
Every muscle in her body tensed so tightly she could barely move, Hermione forced herself to look down, to check the progress of the flesh eater. Already the first delicate web of her veins was visible, as the red jelly ate into her skin and nerves. But there still was a long way to go.
Hermione bit down harder, and screamed again.
She wasn't sure how long the pain lasted for. It could have been a minute or several days, but she knew the moment Severus reached her. Strong hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly.
"It's done Hermione, it's done. What's the incantation?"
Hermione fought through the pain blurring her mind, and scrabbled at the waistband of her pants for her wand. When her fingers finally made contact they felt numb, but she managed somehow to grasp it and aim it vaguely in the direction of her other arm. She spat out the leather belt onto the ground.
"Decesso," she rasped, and instantly relief came.
The pain was still there, but the scalpels had stopped carving further into her flesh. Mastering her pain now it had reached a manageable level, Hermione struggled upright. Severus supported her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and together they surveyed what the flesh eater had left behind.
Hermione's arm was still stretched out on the stone block, but it was barely recognisable as human. From elbow to wrist lay a skeleton. The bones were obscured with a mass of glutinous veins and arteries, pulsing unpleasantly as they continued to push the blood around Hermione's body. The only thing missing was the skin and flesh.
This was why Hermione had chosen the flesh eater. Although she could have easily cut her arm off painlessly, growing it back would have required time. The bones alone would have been a job for skele-gro. This hurt, but it was fast. And additionally Hermione had chosen the flesh eater for one other reason. It thrived on the taste of dark magic, and was known for sucking every last drop from the body.
"Incredible," Severus breathed, staring at the wreckage of Hermione's arm.
"Get me the fucking potion," Hermione snapped, the pain still lancing through her.
Severus scrambled to his feet and hurried over to the cauldron, almost tripping over himself in haste. Carefully he ladled a scoopful into a pewter bowl, and picked up a rag. Then he rejoined Hermione, and settled himself by her side.
Picking up the rag, he dipped it in the potion, and then very gently let a few drops fall onto the mass of veins and bone. Hermione gritted her teeth, as an unbearable itching replaced the pain. It was like fire ants had crawled into her arm and started busily building a nest.
Severus paused.
"Okay?"
"More," Hermione said through her teeth.
Severus nodded, and let more potion drip over the arm. Slowly it was beginning to change. A translucent filmy matter was growing over the veins, and thickening. Gradually the bones were obscured from sight as the substance increased. As it rose upwards it took some veins with it, and new flesh began to burrow between the thin red pathways, forging fresh holding places and locking the veins back into their proper places.
The itching and stinging was becoming worse as freshly grown nerve endings began to send pain signals to Hermione's brain, and she redoubled her efforts to lock the pain down.
When the pink new flesh had risen level with the rest of Hermione's arm, Severus took the rag and soaked it with the potion. Then he smoothed it over her arm, running it from wrist to elbow until her flesh was soaking with red. Skin, fresh smooth skin, seemed to erupt beneath the cloth, spreading across Hermione's arm, until it finally rejoined where it had been broken, leaving Hermione's arm dripping wet with the potion, but looking brand new.
Severus stood, and returned with a cloth, this time dipped in nothing but cool water. Hermione gasped with relief as he took a gentle hold of her arm, and wiped it carefully clean until every last bit of potion was gone. When she dared to look down, her eyes widened.
The skin on her forearm was smooth and supple, but lightly tanned. It flowed from shoulder to fingertip without break, and try and she might Hermione couldn't see a single ripple or scar. The mudblood scar was entirely gone.
Hermione wanted to weep. She had worn that scar for five years, and finally it was gone.
"It's perfect," Severus said, voicing what they were both thinking. "Absolutely perfect."
Hermione smiled tightly.
"Not for long."
There was silence between them. The heat was so oppressive that Hermione felt sick and faint from it and the potions fumes, and she closed her eyes against a headache.
"Do you want to sit outside?" Severus ventured. Hermione nodded.
In the fresh air with the choking atmosphere of the cave left behind Hermione sucked in deep breaths of the evening, and began to feel better. Severus sat down upon a boulder, but she was restless. She wandered from one end of the rocky outcrop to another, staring out at the forests and town, and the castle beyond.
Hogwarts was beautiful.
It was still an hour from sundown, and Hermione could make out the rich greens of the forbidden forest, and even the sparkling reflections of light coming from ripples on the black lake. It was too far to see if anybody wandered the grounds or watched from the windows, but Hermione stared longingly nonetheless.
Seeing it like this, she could almost pretend that Harry and Ron were beside her. A year before the end of the war she had stood with Harry and Ron at this exact point, and watched as the death eaters laid siege to the gates of Hogwarts.
She and Ron had been forced to hold Harry back as he fought desperately to go, to fight, to lead the battle. They had emptied Hogwarts of everything, every last student, house elf, suit of armour and artifact, but none of that meant anything to Harry. It was his home.
"It's just a building mate," Ron had panted, hanging onto one of Harry's arms. "Everyone's safe. Let them have it, we'll rebuild it one day."
"It's not just a building," Harry had snarled. And later, when they watched Hogwarts begin to burn, Hermione had agreed.
Severus stood from the boulder and moved over to stand beside Hermione. Shyly, as though uncertain about his right to do so, he put a hesitant arm around her waist. Hermione didn't turn, laced her fingers through his, and he let out a sigh and pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her from behind.
Hermione stared at Hogwarts. Whole, magnificent and unbroken.
Leaning in, she could feel Severus's heartbeat against her back, and the tremor in his arms from all the exertion. He felt stronger than her, and though it went against her judgement she closed her eyes, and allowed herself to feel held, safe.
Severus pressed a soft kiss to her hair, and she sighed, taking both his hands in hers where they rested gently on her stomach.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
"So am I," Severus said, his voice hoarse. "I'm scared of what they're going to do to you."
He tightened his grip, and Hermione turned in his arms so she could see him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss him. This time he was ready for her, and he leaned into the kiss, sliding his hands around the small of her back and drawing her closer to him. When they broke apart they were both breathing harder, and Severus squeezed her tightly around the waist.
"Wow," he said, and Hermione smiled at his inexperience.
"I've got to go," she said reluctantly. "It's almost time."
Severus tightened his grip, and dipped his head to kiss her again. Hermione allowed it, but then broke away. She needed her focus now.
"When I come back you need to have the potion at the right temperature," she said rapidly. "And the flesh eater ready. We're just going to do the same thing again."
Severus's face clouded, but he nodded. Whatever the questions he wanted to ask her he seemed able to suppress. He opened his mouth several times, but each time couldn't seem to manage to find the words. Finally he shook his head.
"Please come back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Hermione paused, and took one last glance at Hogwarts, tall and proud in the distance. Then she turned to Severus, his face open and vulnerable, and full of yearning.
"I will," she promised, and wondered whether it would remain unbroken.
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Thanks for reading,
Cas
