Ch.8— Heresy
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They had begun walking almost from the time they returned together, Hermione keeping her hands and her distance to herself… for now.
What had gotten into her? Dear god, what had possessed her?
Her body was still afire for the want of him, and her heart was beating frantically minutes after their encounter. She did not, however, blush. She refused to feel at all ashamed for how she felt. This very well could be her last day alive, and perhaps she'd just run out of fucks to give. There were only so many one was given. After all, it had been one HELL of a day, and the day wasn't over yet.
"How's your faith these days, Granger?" Professor Snape asked.
"Granger, am I?"she asked wryly, thinking 'alright… if this is how you want to impose distance between us, then so be it'. She answered, "I am not religious. Why do you ask, Snape?"
He looked at her sharply, and she grinned.
"This is the level of Heresy, or the lake of eternal damnation."
She looked around. "It doesn't look like a lake of fire yet… but then we've yet to consult the map. With the way things are going, it's probably right over that ridge." She pointed.
"Have you forgotten about the city of Dis?" Professor Snape asked her.
Hermione bit her lip, and accessing her knowledge of this canto, said, "We've now reached Hell's capitol. It's here we'll find those 'actively' sinning. Those that are acting out of malice intent. Heretics, murderers, blasphemers, suicides, liars, and traitors are just to name a few. And since we're now in level six, the consequences of failing this level are to be burned alive and forever imprisoned in a red-hot tomb." She said the last with a cheerful lilt to her voice.
He shot her a dry look. "Only you, Granger, could find some way to be chipper in Hell."
"Oh," she laughed, "I'm well past 'chipper' and straight on to 'euphoric' for you see it's only just occurred to me I have no more fucks left to give, Professor Snape. I could die today, and I don't want my last few hours to be fraught with pessimism and fear. When the scary stuff happens, I'll cower. But right now, I'm contented at present. And really, the present is all we have." She shrugged and looked around. "It's a very liberating perspective to take."
He gave her a dry look and said, "I don't see you cowering from anything you come across, and that's very philosophical of you. But it remains we have a job to do, or have you, in your euphoria at running out of fucks, forgotten?"
She laughed.
His lips twitched but then he sobered and said, "We have a job to do, Granger, and that's to plan for what's next."
"Spoil-sport," she teased.
He scowled.
She sighed. "Alright, heresy. It's where, according to Virgil, we'll find the followers of every cult and pagan sect, all buried together and burning in a lake of fire.
Professor Snape began to walk as he lectured, "Heresy is specifically about the soul, and the disbelief that it is immortal. Those who have committed the sin of heresy have actively taught others to not believe in the doctrines of the Christian God. They do not believe in His divinity or His promise of eternal life which is why they're placed in burning graves forever damned in torment."
"Do you really think Slytherin is Christian?" she asked skeptically.
"No, I still think he's doing this for amusement and to impress a goddess. Take out the map."
She did, and they both leaned in to study it. As they watched, writing appeared above what looked to be a cage. The cage was empty, and the writing was unfamiliar. It was flowing like Sanskrit, only she could read some Sanskrit, and these were symbols she didn't recognize.
"Do you recognize the language, sir?"
"No, although some symbols look familiar; I've never seen it."
Hermione closed her eyes and thought back to all the times she'd encountered this type of writing before, and other than a brief period in which she focused her time heavily on learning what little she did know of the Sanskrit language for arithmancy, there was nothing….
But wait…
There was a niggle of a memory.
Biting her lip, she focused and magnified the event. They were on the train to Hogwarts, headed back from winter hols. Luna had The Quibbler. There was an article in the paper she was reading that required special glasses—Spectrespecs, she called them. In fact, Hermione had a pair in her bag—Harry'd had them packed away and thought they would be useful in case they came across an edition of The Quibbler that required them. Since Luna's father was actually publishing the truth of things, he didn't want to miss an opportunity to learn more about their world and Voldemort's reign of terror in it.
"Miss Granger—"
"Quiet," she said softly, still continuing to think. The article had been in Enochian and the Spectrespecs had enabled her to read it.
She opened her eyes and studied the map and closed her eyes again, comparing what she saw to what she remembered…
Opening her eyes, she looked up at Professor Snape and determined, "The language is the language of angels, sir, or the 'Enochian' tongue. It is said a Seer in the late sixteenth century recorded and translated these symbols into English. I think I know a way to interpret them…. but God help if I know where they are…" the last she mumbled to herself as she dove in past her elbow into her beaded bag, searching.
"The next wandless spell you're going to learn is 'accio'," Professor Snape said irritably, giving her his wand.
She smiled, pleased he'd allowed her its use.
His wand, made of ash and what felt like dragon heartstring, was solid and sure, and she weighed it, assessing. It felt strange in her hand but not unwelcome, and she could tell it suited him. And she could also tell the wand would behave for her, albeit begrudgingly, but it would.
She once more shut her eyes, and thinking about where she saw the Spectrespecs last, she performed the spell. A moment later, the glasses flew into her open palm. She handed him back his wand, and he asked, "What are those?" His expression was revolted as he stared down at the pink and blue garish things.
"Luna Lovegood's Spectrespecs," Hermione explained. "They errm… well, randomly enough, I believe they'll translate Enochian."
He looked at her mystified. "How do you know any of this—?"
"Haven't you figured it out, yet, professor?" she asked, trying hard to keep the smirk off her face.
His eyebrows rose. "Figured out what?"
"I'm all-knowing." She laughed at his look of disgust and slipped the glasses on, once more studying the map.
The words appeared in silver and rearranged themselves to be another language foreign to her. "Eret daht, Eret dah," she translated, "Disarer—"
"Stop!" he ordered. "Don't say another word; you could be invoking a spell. Let me see."
The glasses were ripped from her nose, and she took offense for all of one second before she took a moment to appreciate the ridiculous picture he made standing there in the buff with Harry's ancient trainers on his feet and Luna's Spectrespecs perched high upon his nose.
She couldn't help it, she laughed.
He lowered the glasses with a finger and looked over them at her. This caused her to laugh more.
"I'm glad one of us finds something amusing."
"Oh, if you saw what I saw, professor, you'd be laughing too. Do you recognize anything?"
"Yes." He pointed. "This symbol here represents the Black Zodiac."
Hermione sobered and looked up at him. "That sounds dark."
He shook his head. "It's not. At least, it's not dark magic, more a shade of gray that's more legend than fact." He studied the map for a final time before taking the glasses off and saying, "Legend has it there are twelve apostles, and these are represented by spirits that have angered the gods and are therefore earth-bound. They are immortal and spend their time tortured, and so, too, seek to torture those unfortunate enough to cross their paths."
"And these spirits… are they ghosts?" she asked.
"They were once mortal but have long ceased living. Ghosts can be seen by the naked eye. These spirits—more shades, really— cannot. At least, not by any method I know. They're akin to poltergeists, but Peeves would have very little in common with them."
"And if we were to run into any of them…"
"Then we'd more than likely be dead. They are vicious."
"Oh, great. That's positive. Well, what do we do, sir?"
"We keep walking and figure out a way to navigate ourselves out of here. Slytherin has been leaving us to our own devices more and more in trying to figure out the traps he's set. The words on the map, 'Eret daht, eret dah, disarere emundi' form the basis for a spell, but I'm unsure what language it's in or how to implement it if we have the right translation. This may be in a language lost to time."
"And yet, Slytherin used the language of angels at first… it's an interesting choice for him to choose…. we're in the level of heresy, and angels are now to be included… at least their language has been. And angels can't be seen."
"Where are you going with this?" he asked her.
"I don't know yet… just thinking out loud more than anything else." She looked around. "Like many other levels in the beginning, this place is idyllic, beautiful. It's not at all like I thought the sixth circle of hell would be… I thought we'd be seeing a lake of fire and raining brimstone at the very least…" A flash of a city on fire flew past her mind's eye, and Hermione drew back on a startled breath. The air was acrid, and it was hard to breathe. Smoke and ash clung to the air, and embers sizzled along her skin.
"What?" Professor Snape asked concerned. "What is it?"
She gulped and looked up at him. Another flash appeared and was gone in an instant, then another, and she heard the beginnings of screaming as a realization struck her. "Like with the other levels, we have to figure out the rules of the game, professor." She gulped and said, "Heresy is the opposite of faith. Faith is about believing in things unseen. 'Seeing is believing' according to a heretic because they do not trust in faith alone that things are real."
She bit her lip and looked up at him. "What if… what if what we're seeing is only a facsimile of the truth? A deception? What if Hell were here all along, and we've just been blindly walking through it?" She looked up at him and said, "I think we've arrived in Dis, sir. I think it's all around us… it just has to be to be believed to be seen. Let me see the glasses once more, please, professor."
Upon slipping them on, a warm wind began to blow all around her, and she noticed how surreal everything looked when viewed through Luna's Spectrespecs. It looked almost… well, it looked almost like everything was on fire. She lowered the glasses. It was a calm and beautiful day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and they were walking through a meadow.
She looked through the glasses again, really focusing now.
There were tall turrets, spires, and minarets—towers surrounded them, and they were glowing with waves of heat. Professor Snape and she were currently standing in the middle of a cobble-stoned street in the heart of the city of Dis with flames filling the sky, and the air was pregnant with ash, smoke, and ember.
As she began to believe in things now seen, the screams of the damned roared, filling her ears. And this time, she knew, these were these were the actual screams of the damned. There was no escaping them; there was no escaping this. She once more took off the Spectrespecs; the beautiful day greeted her, the deafening screams instantly silenced.
She put them back on, and oh, God!
"No!" she roared as she shoved Professor Snape out of the way and took the brunt of the attack. The wind was knocked out of her as she was driven back against a wall that was glowing with white-hot heat. Her back would've been scorched if not for the cloak she wore, and she screamed as the thing scratched and clawed at her chest and neck.
It was a thing more beast than man, its pallor deathly-white, its gaze blood-red, and its teeth ground razor-sharp. She put up her hands in defense and cried out as she felt her arms slice open, her fingers cut and break. The thing lowered its head, trying to bite her but could not. The cage it wore around its head stopped it. But if not for the cage, this thing would be making a meal out of her.
The metal of the cage, however, was iron-hot and scorching, and it branded her chest.
The glasses were knocked from her head, and she had the skewed 'double-vision' of seeing the picture-perfect day, the thing attacking her invisible, and then the glasses were righted and Hell remained.
The thing was thrown back from her and imprisoned with an 'immobulus' from Professor Snape, who had cast a dust-raising charm in order to see its outline. Hermione fell to the ground, gasping.
Professor Snape dropped to his knees beside her as she coughed, and there was a spray of blood.
The whole of the attack had lasted six seconds.
His wand was out and a diagnostic spell murmured almost instantly. And she saw a holographic image of herself in blue with places where she was hurt outlined in glowing red. A few of her ribs were cracked, her chest and her shoulders were burned and scratched where the cloak didn't cover. Her chest above her breast looked like it had been branded with a waffle iron. She had long, gruesome scratches on her arms where she had tried to defend herself, and two fingers on her left hand were broken.
And she'd bitten through her tongue. That's why it felt like she'd coughed up blood, and it was still bleeding sluggishly.
Professor Snape began to chant, and she felt the warmth of his healing magic suffuse her. The pain she felt lessened considerably. "We've got to get out of here," she insisted, struggling to sit up and sweating from the heat of this place.
"What is it you see?" Professor Snape asked calmly, continuing to cast healing spells.
"Hell," she expounded on a wince as he took her hand in his, and with an 'episkey', healed her fingers. Another round with his wand, and her ribs were set to rights, the scratches at her arms and torso healed as well. "We're in the middle of the city. Here. Put on Luna's glasses, and you'll see." She took them off and handed them to him, pleased when the screaming died and the temperature grew tolerable again once the illusion of peace and safety was restored.
Apparently, there was a sweet mercy in this place because, since she'd first viewed Slytherin's little unwelcome surprise through the Spectrespecs and believed it, hell was only real to her if she viewed it through the glasses she wore.
They weren't stuck in that place, thank God.
Professor Snape put them on and looked around, saying, "You were attacked because your awareness shifted." She saw the moment he registered what had attacked her, and he went over, kneeling to examine the thing, now invisible to her. "This is one of the spirits of the Black Zodiac. Heretics require proof. Faith is belief in what's unseen. Seeing is believing, and this shade, known as the 'Jackal', has probably been stalking us for hours, waiting for our awareness to shift so we could see it," Professor Snape removed the glasses and once more knelt beside her. "Come on, my girl. Hold onto me." And putting his arm beneath her back, he drew her up to standing.
She did so on a groan, feeling like she'd been hit repeatedly by a bludger.
He waved his wand at his hand and then placed it upon her nape where she'd been burned. Hermione gasped at the feeling of sweet relief for he'd placed a cooling charm on his hand before he healed her. Then, he was incanting away the burn, and as with Bellatrix's tattoo and the scratch at her hand, her skin began to tingle and heal.
He did the same for the burns and cuts at her chest but said, "I can do nothing for this kind of scarring, indicating the waffle-iron scar upon her chest and the upper swell of her breast that was about the size of her palm. "It's more akin to branding, and that's something only time and a judicious amount of burn paste can heal."
"Oh," she said shakily as he helped her to her feet, "I think I'll leave it. You and I can play tic-tac-toe later."
He looked at her in disbelief.
She shrugged. "Again, I've run out of fucks, professor. Right now, it would be like polishing the banisters on the Titanic. It's all going down. And in spite of this fact, you healed me for which I'm grateful." Steadying herself by using his shoulders, Hermione stood on tip-toe and was just able to kiss him on the cheek. "You missed a spot though," she whispered in his ear before she lowered her feet to the ground and looked up at him.
"Oh," he said lowly, his eyes meeting hers, "and where's that?"
Her eyes danced merrily, "My tongue. I nearly bit clean through it." She poked it out and said, "Look at the tip. It's almost severed," except it sounded more like, 'look acha tith. Iss almos sethered'.
"We can't have that, now can we?" he asked, his eyes echoing her amusement as his hands went around to hold her by her waist.
"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "Fix it."
"Bossy," he said, his tone said he rather approved. He drew her closer.
"Insufferably so," she said as her arms went around his neck. He lowered his head and claimed her lips in a gentle kiss. Her heart sped as she heard him whisper an incantation before licking the injured spot. There was a flash of heat, a slow curl of pleasure in her lower belly, and then she was healed.
He stroked the spot with his tongue, and she sighed to feel him deepen the kiss. Her thoughts fled, and her body hummed with desire, practically glowing, before he made any move to release her.
And when he did, she drew a breath to regain her equilibrium and asked, "Is it working?"
His head titled as his eyes narrowed in curiosity.
"My feminine wiles," she explained. "I'm plying you with them in hopes of seducing you." She looked pointedly down; he was almost at full mast. "Obviously, they're having some effect."
The scowl once more deepened, and she laughed before saying, "Come on, professor. Let's go find yet one more way to meet our deaths." She gestured to the still-immobulused Jackal. "And what do we do about him?"
He duplicated the Spectrespecs and gave a pair to her. And with a wave of his wand, he had the Immobulused Jackal floating behind them. "The map showed an empty cage, and I think the Enochian spell has something to do with it. As you've stated, the heretics believed 'seeing is believing', and we've just been given a taste of that. Now that the veil has been ripped from our eyes, there's no turning back. We must keep going and keep careful watch."
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Through the Spectrespecs, they were viewing what Salazar Slytherin determined would be 'Hell's capitol'.
The sky was a fiery orange, and everything around them sizzled and seemed to be one breath away from catching fire. The city walls and buildings around them practically glowed with waves of heat, flames sputtering from some of the windows, and had they not been wearing shoes, their feet would've been scorched by the cobble-stoned earth. As it was, the soles of her shoes were uncomfortably warm.
In wearing the glasses, Hermione was sweating profusely.
She took them off for just a moment to feel the blessed cool relief of the meadow and closed her eyes, breathing deep of the cool air before slipping the glasses back on and returning to Hell.
The screams of the damned around them were almost deafening, and she had to shout over them, saying, "What else could we encounter with the Black Zodiac? And for that matter, how did you know this thing was called the 'Jackal'?"
Professor Snape cast 'muffliato', and the noise around them lessened considerably. He began to lecture as they walked on, saying, "According to Dante, the city of Dis is guarded by fallen angels, the Furies, and Medusa."
"A more daunting combination I cannot think of," Hermione muttered sotto voce.
He nodded but continued on, "Dis is the exact opposite of Heaven, and here we will find all manner of perversions and curiosities including those known to comprise the Black Zodiac. You asked how I knew this was 'the Jackal'. He nodded behind them. "I know because I've seen depictions of it.
"Again, the Black Zodiac is not dark but like with much of magic, comprises the darker side of the magical coin. There are twelve shades to represent each month: the Jackal, the first born son, the torso, the bound woman, the withered lover, the torn prince, the angry princess, the Pilgrimess, the great child, the dire mother, the Hammer, and the Juggernaut.
"It is foretold that if one collects all twelve, one can open up the 'Ocularis Infernum' or Eye of Hell, that allows its user the power to see everything in the past and future, heaven and earth, the blessed and the damned."
"Well, that's something to kill for," Hermione said softly.
"Quite," he agreed. "The Jackal itself is more beast than man. The thing has a particular affinity for female flesh and seeks to rape as well as consume."
Hermione's eyebrows rose above the glasses she wore. "Then I'd say I came away relatively unscathed, wouldn't you, sir?" she said, looking back at the vicious thing.
"You did, indeed. The cage around its head was reputed to be added by Hades himself in an attempt to rein in this macabre creation. And still the beast seeks to attack and consume. Its symbol is an inverted ram's horn, or a mirrored and inverted version of the true zodiac sign 'Aries'."
Hermione bit her lip, and looking back at the bound and immobulused thing, asked, "What do we do with him—errm, it?"
"That remains to be seen. Until we know, we shall keep him bound to us."
"Can he be 'imperioused'?" she asked.
Professor Snape did a double-take, and she shrugged. "It would be nice to have another weapon at our disposal in this place, and he more than sounds like he'd suit the bill."
"Your mind… you know, it's a bit disconcerting what a girl of only eighteen thinks sometimes," he said absently.
"You're one to talk. Mr, 'I-crafted-'Sectumsempra'-when-I-was-sixteen-years-old'. Age has nothing to do with it. 'Imperio' could help us. Why don't you cast it and see?"
"Hmm, although Salazar Slytherin has a profound distaste for the dark arts, the origin of many dark spells do not start out this way. 'Imperio' is one of those as it was used by mothers to protect their young from doing something foolish." Professor Snape pointed his wand at the thing and cast.
Its eyes clouded over, and Hermione grew a relieved breath to see it take on the attributes of the curse: vacant expression, cloudy vision, and listless stance. "Walk in front of us," Professor Snape ordered softly, and the thing complied. Hermione put two jars of flame to surround it in case it could fight off the curse's effects.
Judging it safe to take another second's reprieve, she once more removed the glasses and took a breath of clean, ash-less air before putting the glasses back on.
Professor Snape was a few steps ahead, and she went to catch up with him.
There was a howl in the distance followed by another, and he said, "Draw your hood and stay close to me. There's no telling what we'll encounter next."
She reached to do so.
There was what sounded like a child's laughter and then something grabbed the cloak from below her, and with a sharp yank, it was ripped from her shoulders leaving her exposed. "Professor!" she cried as she grabbed for it, realizing there was something below them lurking in the sewer grate. From its vantage, it could clearly see underneath the cloak which was how it knew where she stood.
Tugging, the thing had a death grip on it. There was a sharp, spear-like object that poked up from the grate, and she shrieked to feel it graze her ankle.
"Let it go, Miss Granger!" Professor Snape said, reaching for her and tugging her back. The silver translucence of the cloak disappeared with a 'swish'.
"Oh, Harry's going to KILL me!"
"We have more pressing concerns at present," he said tightly as the sky around them began to darken, and looking up, Hermione saw what he meant. There was a black cloud headed straight for them, and as with the wasps and hornets, she could see the cloud was actually a swarm.
Professor Snape scooped her up and began to fly them away.
They were flung down, swatted as if by the hand of a giant, and Hermione felt her ears ring as they tumbled to earth.
Professor Snape landed on her, and her bare back scraped across the hot cobblestones as they skid to a stop.
"Hermione!" Professor Snape said horrified, quickly rolling off of her and assessing.
For her part, Hermione felt like her head had been split in two. She blinked blearily up at him. He was talking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying over the screeching of the damned and the ringing in her ears. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
She had to get up. They were being chased, and she had to get up.
Professor Snape was still trying to talk to her. She couldn't make sense of what he said, just put one hand underneath herself and pushed up. He was there to help her to her feet, and she moaned to feel the hot air on her back which felt like it'd been slashed to ribbons.
"—find us some place to hide," Professor Snape said as he put his arms around her and lifted, carrying her. She cried out to feel his hand on her back which was now bleeding. He jostled them, and she cried out again as he threw her over his shoulder and began to run.
Hermione lifted her head, seeing nothing but a moving black cloud that looked possessed with all of Hell's fury, and then the glasses slid off her nose to fall on the cobblestone street. And she was instantly transported back to that picture-perfect, bliss-filled day, and Hell seemed just a dream.
Professor Snape still carried her over a shoulder, running, but they were in their flower-dappled meadow with the copse of trees in front of them.
She felt something grab at her hair, pulling.
She lifted her head; she could see nothing. Something pecked at her head, her neck, before finding one of her abraded cuts and sunk its teeth in.
She screamed.
Professor Snape drew his wand, and a blast of magic shot from the tip in a deafening arch as a powerful shield went up all around them. The thing biting her immediately let go. He then began firing spell after spell, casting a smaller and smaller shield, layering them in until they were quite cocooned. She could see fizzles and pops as unseen things ran into his wards. He put her down, and to Hermione it felt like he'd sat her on cool grass. He was careful to lay her on her undamaged side.
Her back felt ripped and torn, and looking over her shoulder, she could see a fair amount of blood.
She practiced occlusion to shutter away the pain, going to her seaside retreat. She imagined herself in the tub, the book that was waiting to be read there on a tray as were thousands upon thousands of bubbles surrounding her. The book was a gothic romance, a guilty pleasure of hers, and she was just to the part where the hero admits he's been married before.
She was convinced his wife was still hidden in the attic, like all the good ones were.
There was a deafening boom as Professor Snape's wards fell, and then he was scooping her up and running with her again. And Hermione couldn't help it, she did cry out to feel his fingers dig into one of her cuts so he could gain a better grip.
He jostled her, changing position until she was cradled by him, and he said, "We're almost there. Hold on." She tucked her chin into the side of his neck and hid as she held onto him for dear life. It was disconcerting to know they were in a life-and-death situation but not to be able to see any of it, just the magic Professor Snape cast.
Touch, sight, smell, sound… it all was gone: the heat, the fire, the smell of brimstone, the shrieking of the damned. She knew she was in hell, absolutely. But she felt none of its effects. Where she was, there was sun-dappled bliss.
She could die, but like an ostrich with its head in the sand, she was at peace.
It was surreal.
"I'm going to put you down, and you're to stand where you are and not to move an inch. Do you understand?"
She nodded, and he set her upright, making certain she kept her balance.
She watched him cast another spell, this one seemed to be another complex ward, but had more in common with a dark curse. Suddenly, black mist poured from his wand tip, surrounding them in darkest pitch, and Hermione could see nothing. If she moved, she was lost. She knew that.
He drew her to him, and then he was carrying her, and again, it was disconcerting to feel the sun—dappled by a copse of trees—with a gentle breeze playing along her skin. And all the while it felt like he was taking them into the very pit of Hell itself.
"Alright, that's good enough," he said as he sat her down to standing and cast 'lumos'.
It was redundant to her. But where they actually were, apparently, didn't allow for natural light, and so she gave a mental shrug and looked up at him. "Let's have a look at you…" Professor Snape said, holding his wand light to her back and side. He drew in a sharp breath.
She didn't need him to tell her it was bad. She knew.
He began to incant, and again, she felt the sweet balm of his healing magic suffuse her.
But there was something very wrong with her back where she had been bitten; he drew her in his arms bracing her as he murmured an incantation. Tendrils of magic poured out of his wand in a shower of pure white. It met her skin, and she cried out at the white-hot slash of pain as his spell took effect.
"I know. I know, my girl. I'm sorry. It's necessary to prevent infection and heal the wound."
"What caused it?" she asked shakily, more to distract herself from the pain than to know the answer. Did it even really matter? It was something horrible and macabre and perfectly apropos in Slytherin's little hell.
"A harpy. It nearly made a meal of you. Here, track my wand light."
She did so.
"Just as I thought, you're concussed. I know a spell to treat it, but it will take a few minutes to take full effect. Until then, you're going to have to tolerate a bit of confusion and more than a little dysphasia." He cast the spell on her, and she had the thought:
Dysphasia. It will effect my speech…words… anti. words. She was anti. words. Wait… why wasn't that right?
"Where are we, and how'd we get here?" she said, but it came out sounding more like, "We… where? ...how?"
"In a crypt. There was a cemetery, and I ran towards it. The demons chasing us cannot come on hallowed ground. We've hidden to escape them while I think of what to do to defeat Medusa and the three Furies."
"Oh, holy shite, professor!" she said, and strangely enough, THAT was articulated perfectly.
"Quite," Professor Snape said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Now, we're going to rest a bit. You're in Valhalla already, and I think I'll join you for a moment." Casting a powerful ward to surround them, he took off his Spectrespecs and looked down at her, his expression filled with concern.
"How do you feel?"
In answer, she shook her head, and reaching for him, tucked herself into his arms.
He stiffened for a moment only, and then he was hugging her back so tightly, it nearly crushed her and set the newly-healed skin at her back to stretching uncomfortably. She hissed in pain, and he immediately released her.
It was obvious the man was unpracticed at giving affection. She would see that changed immediately.
Closing her eyes, Hermione leaned forward. And taking his arms, she drew them around her and nestled in close; all the while breathing in the clean smells of juniper, cedar, and bittersweet—still present even now in the blackest den of hell.
And she prayed.
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A/N: Credit goes to the movie Thirteen Ghosts for my liberal borrowing of its plot for my creative endeavoring. It's one of my favorites as it's visually stunning, and I highly recommend it for anyone who likes the horror genre.
I will try for this not to be too much of a cliffie! Again, I don't want to drown you with words; you'd float away.
And you guys have no idea how much your reviews brighten my day, so thank you! My thanks go out to each and every one of you who have taken the time to review. Your interest IS my motivation to see this thing through to the end.
Until next time,
—K