Chapter 6:

Cool fingers danced across her sweat-soaked forehead in a delicate pattern. She kept her eyes closed as the fingers softly brushed the damp curls at her temples. A thumb traced her hairline. She swallowed her moan as her skin broke out in pleasurable shivers but it was enough for the hand to stop and hurriedly deprive her of its touch. She cracked open her eyes to see Snape watching her with a guarded expression.

Hermione was lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room draped in white veils and smelt of herbs and tinctures. Everything about the room was clinical, yet fantastical at the same time: dark oak furniture covered in starch white linen and curved arches over the windows and doors, yet plain and functional in every other aspect.

"Where am I?"

"The Healer's room," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I have been hit by a lorry," she replied, feeling every single one of her muscles ache. "What happened?"

He cleared his throat and rose from the chair he had been sitting in. "Your magic was being suppressed by the Labyrinth's magic to the point where it knocked you unconscious. I have given you some restorative draughts and ones that will protect your magic and you from the overpowering magic around you."

"Sarah?" Hermione asked, trying to sit up, suddenly finding her concern for her friend overpowering her own weakness.

"Won't be affected as the Labyrinth wants her here."

"It doesn't want me here…" Confusion itched inside her. She didn't feel the sting of rejection, merely bemused curiosity that she was unwanted and yet Sarah…

"You don't belong here," he said, pointing at her chest. "The only reason you are here is that the necklace I gave you acted like a key through that arch."

Her hand rose to the pendant, slowly like her limb was made of lead. Her fingers brushed her neck, devoid of the acorn before she remembered she had returned it to Snape. Something akin to regret welled up in her as she let her hand fall back down.

"But you are here and you—"

"I was rescued by the Labyrinth." Curt. Impassive. Factual.

"Yes, but you gave me the necklace to bring me here in the first place. Did you know this would happen?"

"If you had unlocked the acorn, it would have brought you to me so that I could learn what I needed to learn after my death. The magic would have been your passport through this kingdom, but as you did not open it and came quite by other means, the Labyrinth views you as an intruder."

"So I really need to go home, then." She didn't know how that made her feel. Not that she was particularly attached to Snape, but the thought of leaving him here twisted something in her guts.

"You do."

He left through one of the flowy white curtains and she was alone. She could hear him tinkering with glass vials on the other side of the veil. Why was she feeling so glum at the prospect of going home? That's what she wanted and she would see Adrian again.

"So tell me about S.P.E.W," Snape instructed as he returned with a tea tray levitating in front of him.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Why would you want to know anything about S.P.E.W?"

"Your movement in school was not very popular, correct?"

"Thank you for bringing that up." Hermione closed her eyes as pain pounded inside her skull.

"Well, I know a thing or two about not being popular," he said, suddenly stilted.

"Funnily enough, so do I." She certainly never got along very well with people outside of Harry and Ron. Without their acceptance and friendship—and a troll—she probably would have spent the rest of her school career alone or in a lukewarm friendship with Neville. In many ways, Neville had been too good for her and deserved someone better in a school chum. She was happy that he had found a firm friendship in Luna and eventually love in Hannah Abbot.

He frowned at her, before sitting with his long legs crossed in the chair she had found him on when she had woken earlier. "Tea?"

She tried to sit up but pain radiated through her skull making her woozy. She found her arms being held by strong hands as Snape briskly, yet gently, pulled her into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard.

"Try not to overdo it, Miss Granger," he said, releasing her arms and stepping away. He sat down once more, keeping a wary eye on her. "Tea?" he asked again.

Hermione nodded, wincing as the motion shot electric pain through her brain once more.

"A headache potion," he said, handing her a small purple vial. She took it gratefully and knocked it back.

"Thank you."

He gave a curt nod before he returned to fixing their tea. Hermione watched his masterful hands strain the tea and stir in the milk before she hurriedly looked away as his dark eyes shot up to her face.

"Why did you want to ask about S.P.E.W?" she asked, taking her teacup from him. As much as she loathed to discuss it, she was curious as to why he brought it up in the first place. It couldn't just be because he wanted to highlight that they were both unpopular in their own ways.

Snape took a sip of his tea so delicately it was a wonder his large nose allowed him to do so.

"There are many things to dislike about S.P.E.W.," he replied, holding his hand up as she spluttered in indignation. "I might suggest...perhaps ten reasons. But there is one very strong reason why I don't hate it."

Hermione would have raised a brow if she had the strength to do so. All her energy was consumed by trying to keep her cup steady in its saucer and she was afraid the rattle was going to drown out his quiet words.

"It was unpopular and that didn't deter you."

"That is it?"

"Doing what is right isn't always what is easy," he said. "Your friends disparaged you for your passion and you stood strong in the face of it. As misguided as—"

"House elf welfare is not misguided," she snapped.

"No, but forcing your way of thinking onto them without their consultation is," he said, leaning forward. "Your heart is in the right place, but the execution was shaky."

"Yes, well, I was fourteen—going on fifteen—and doing more for them than grown adults at the time."

"Why didn't you follow that as a career option instead of becoming head of healing potions?" Snape asked. His tone wasn't as derisive as she would have believed before coming here.

Hermione leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes. "And give you more reasons to hate me?"

She didn't know why she asked him that. Whether he hated her or not was neither here nor there where her job—her life—was concerned.

She kept her eyes firmly closed, not wanting to see the mocking look on his face.

"It is the reason I gave you the pendant," he said after a stilted pause. "Your determination to make S.P.E.W. work."

"What?" Hermione opened her eyes, though they burned at the action.

"Well, I could have given it to Minerva or Flitwick or someone who had a vestige of concern for me in the past." He looked away from her as she opened her eyes but she didn't miss the tight lines around his mouth and eyes. "But you had a strong sense of justice; of fairness and I believed you of all people would have wanted to update me on the outcome."

"And I failed you," Hermione said, trying to keep the bite out of her voice that was merely a projection of guilt. "We have travelled this road before."

"Yes, and it doesn't matter." He waved his free hand dismissively. "You're here now."

"Yes, stuck here almost dying from magic depletion and I don't even know if my flatmate and friend will return with me," she said sullenly, feeling the weight of everything tumbling down upon her. "And everyone at home, worrying about my absence. And the most troublesome thing of all, is I don't think any of this is real."

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, his spine going rigid.

A kind of mania was overcoming her. Laughter bubbled at the back of her throat. She wanted to move nowhere and everywhere at once. Tears pooled in her eyes as something frantic clawed at her chest, trying to escape; trying to stay imprisoned. Her waning energy and the pain made her reckless. She felt all that energy flowing inside, racing down her tongue.

"Well, you are an acerbic bastard and I don't think that would change as drastically as it has despite you being on our side," Hermione explained. At his blank look, she continued. "This must be a fabrication of my overworked brain. Or I had a potions accident that rendered me comatose. And I must have thought about you as my lab exploded and that's why you're here. And Sarah lives with me, so it is easy to see why my addled brain would include her. That King though—I am unsure about him. He resembles David Bowie and I had been listening to a bit of Hunky Dory lately so…" She placed her teacup and saucer down on her lap, no longer able to support its weight as her mania washed over her. "Adrian wasn't impressed by my Muggle taste in music."

"I think I should let you rest," he said, standing and taking the teacup from her. "You're starting to ramble."

"Is it cheating if I fuck you in this fever dream?" Hermione asked, relinquishing her cup, watching as he expertly stacked it on top of his one. "I am fond of Adrian, but there is something about broody bastards that one could only fancy in works of fiction or in a dream. And this might be my only chance."

Snape inhaled sharply. "Wha—"

"Aside from trying to throw us in the dungeons when we first arrived, you have been somewhat pleasant," Hermione cut him off, as she feebly crossed her arms. "Am I supposed to believe that this is real? And not my mind perhaps romanticising you to the point of ridiculousness?"

"Miss Granger, that is enough," he snapped. Hermione cast her eyes over his face, seeing how pale and tight his features had become. "Your body is clearly fatigued and your brain is overworked to be thinking such foolish notions."

"Are you trying to make me believe you are actually not as dour as you present yourself to be?" She tossed her head back and cackled as hot sparks raced across her skin. Her magic was trying to restore her while the Labyrinth was trying to rip it out of her, leaving her almost delirious in pain and mania.

"Are you trying to make me believe that you would want to fuck me, even in a dream?" he asked angrily, spittle flying from his mouth.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, finding the action draining. She just wanted to sleep now.

He gave a rather shaky sigh and ran his hand over his face. "I had thought…enough time had passed. I had thought that perhaps I could have made a new start with you now that we are not at war and I am not your professor…" He shook his head. "It seems I am mistaken. Good day, Miss Granger."

And with that, he parted the curtains and left. She heard the clinking of the teacups and then silence.

Sarah had waited anxiously while Jareth spoke to the surly healer outside where Hermione was resting. She paced up and down and eventually, Snape brusquely opened the door and surged past her with a dark look on his face.

Jareth appeared at the door and gave her a lopsided smile.

"The pitfalls of true love," he said, shaking his head.

"What?"

"When two people love each other and live in denial…" He gave her a pointed stare.

"How is Hermione?" she asked, trying to ignore his honeyed words.

"She is well enough to be upsetting my healer," he said, gesturing down the corridor where Snape had all but stomped down. "Well enough to make their road to true love rocky."

"What on earth are you talk—is that a literal bird's nest on your head because I'm beginning to have concerns about your brain?"

"What has my hair got to do with my brain?"

"Bird brain," she replied. "I mean, you literally turned into an owl in my lounge back in the 80s."

Jareth practically preened. "You remembered."

Sarah rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Are you suggesting that the person you hinted at that Sarah would marry is that grumpy git?" She liked using the word git and in this case, it was incredibly apt.

He nodded. "I believe you managed to tell me ten things you hate about me. So I owed you an answer. I have provided, as promised. Generous of me, no? Considering you just tried to insult my superior intellect."

Sarah scowled. "I did, but I wouldn't say it is superior." But then she shook her head. She wouldn't let him distract her from her cause. "Hermione is smarter than to fall in love with someone who fakes his death and then tries to throw her in a dungeon on sight."

Jareth ran his finger across his lip. "He didn't fake his death intentionally. And he was just doing his job."

"Doing one's job is no excuse for imprisonment."

Jareth shrugged. "If Severus returned to the Above, he would find ways to make it up to her."

"Hold up," Sarah screeched. "What do you mean if he went back? You saved him from imminent death, so why can't Toby go back?"

Sarah's emotions started ramping up to heightened levels at the thought that he could send Snape back but not her brother.

"Severus is not fae touched. He wasn't chosen by the Labyrinth but by me," Jareth said evenly. "Toby owed a debt to the Labyrinth when he was won by you. It was repaid with his death. Severus was brought here as a kindness."

Sarah let the words wash over her, easing the fire in her stomach but the despondency still settled within her, knowing that she couldn't help her brother escape this place.

Jareth said, "Magic can be finicky and the rules convoluted."

"Why him?" Sarah asked, her voice straining.

"Why did I choose to save Severus?" Jareth folded his hands behind his back and started pacing in front of her. "Primarily because I didn't think he would deserve such an ignoble death. But more importantly, he allowed you to return to me. Without him, you wouldn't have befriended your roommate and return to the Labyrinth with her."

"How would you know of his death or Hermione bringing me here before it happened?" Sarah asked, incredulous.

He tapped his nose and smirked. "Magic. I saw it, or rather more accurately. I felt it when I met him as a child. I felt the future—my…our future—in him."

"So it's fate?"

"If you like. But that is rather simplistic. I didn't know how or when you would return. I just knew that Severus was the key when I met him." Jareth was nonchalantly inspecting a glass jar on the nearby shelf as if he wasn't discussing that her very life was tied up with his whether she liked it or not.

"And what is it about him that connects him to Hermione? She was his student; that is inappropriate."

There was a heavy silence as Jareth gave her an assessing gaze. Sarah flicked her eyes from his face to the soft fluttering of the netted curtains that detailed the room. She could still feel the weight of his stare.

"Severus gave her a necklace in his will," he answered eventually. In a slow, deliberate tone. "One that I imbued with my magic. He didn't know who to give it to at first. He didn't even know it was from me but believes it is a family heirloom he had merely tinkered with to bring her here. He spent a lot of time deliberating over his choice. He wanted to give it to his childhood friend, but she died. Then as his war rapidly wound up, he seemingly plucked your friend at random."

"But it's not random."

"No. The necklace chose the recipient," he explained. "Severus thinks he made a conscious choice even as he doesn't understand it. He reasons it away as Granger being the best candidate to unlock his charms and to bring the news of their war without wanting to kill him on sight. He believes it is a logical, intellectual, almost clinical choice but the necklace chose."

"I think Hermione deserves better."

"Do you?" he asked, sceptically. "Severus may appear grumpy and dour but he is a good man. When he gets past his stubbornness, he will do anything for her."

"She's with Adrian," Sarah said, exasperated. "You can't just use magic to fuck up her life. She is happy with her boyfriend and he is good for her."

"Yes," Jareth replied absently. "I wonder if he is as happy with her, however."

"Why?"

"Hermione might appear to care for him but her heart is unlikely to be moved," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Adrian can sense that."

Sarah frowned. "I am sure this is all manipulation on your part. She has never been as serious about someone as she has—is—about him. And no amount of throwing her former teacher in her path is going to change how she feels." She swallowed hard. "And have you been spying on her?"

He shook his head. "I have kept watch over you and maybe once or twice incidentally seen her and this Adrian together. They seem chummy, but there is resistance on both parts. Their auras do not align."

"Of all the airy fairy nonsense…"

He scoffed at that and pointed at his chest. "I am a member of the fair folk, Sarah. Many of your cultures would label me as a fairy. Time and dreams are my strongest element." He paused, wrinkling his nose. "Air is an element for a lesser being than I."

It suddenly dawned on Sarah that Hermione could be hearing everything they said. The idea that she would learn she was destined to end up with that stern-looking man made her break into a sweat.

"I wasn't calling you an 'air' fairy," she said, hiding her amusement behind her anger. "It is nonsense that you can sense auras and whether people are destined for one another. It sounds like romantic claptrap that has no basis in real life."

"Sarah, are you so opposed to love that you don't even want it for your friend?" Jareth cut off her panic in a hushed voice. "You are very different to that child who believed in magic and love and trampled my entire kingdom with her ideals."

She shook her head. "I believe love is organic and not Magic, Jareth," she said tersely. "You can't control it. If she loves this Snape fellow then she will come to it naturally and not because some necklace picked her."

"And how do you know they won't love each other organically?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice.

"Because you think keeping me here and kissing me senseless and letting me see Toby will provoke me into loving you so why would I expect better of you for Hermione?"

If Sarah believed Jareth could look defeated, that's how he appeared now. She'd seen that look before when she had told him she had no power over him. The silence was stony for a few moments.

"So how is Hermione?" she asked, kicking herself for getting distracted from the reason she was meant to be there.

"Go see for yourself," he replied, tugging on her wrist as if the sight of her crossed arms was irritating him. She let her arms fall to her sides as she entered the healing rooms.

When Hermione woke again it was to Sarah and not to Snape. She smiled feebly at her friend.

"How are you feeling?" Sarah asked, swishing her perfectly straight hair over her shoulder and crossing one long tanned leg over the other.

"Better than I was but still rubbish," she replied honestly. "Have you been here long?"

"About half an hour. You were fast asleep when I came and I didn't want to disturb you." Sarah gave a wan smile as she fidgeted with her bracelet. "Do you think I'm foolish?"

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"For…not exactly falling for, but certainly for lowering my defences around Jareth…" Sarah tugged at the ends of her hair. "I know you're too observant to have avoided noticing that I have been a lot softer with him than perhaps I should."

Hermione still felt sluggish and fatigued. She wasn't sure she could do this discussion any justice.

"I don't know if any of this is real, Sarah. It feels like a fever dream; a nightmare. I want to wake up and go home. I want to snuggle into my own bed and perhaps even with Adrian. But I don't want to be here anymore." She swallowed, despite how dry her throat was. "So I don't know how to answer your question. I don't…" Her voice broke and she felt Sarah gripping her hand. Shame washed over her as she recalled propositioning Snape before she fell asleep.

"I shouldn't have dumped this on you when you're feeling so shit," Sarah said apologetically. "But it is real. Jareth can manipulate dreams but this isn't it."

"How can you know for sure?" Hermione collapsed back against her pillow and closed her eyes. "Snape is alive and isn't as hateful as I remember him. This can't be real."

"He's pretty hateful," Sarah observed.

"He was worse when he was my teacher."

Sarah made a soft noise of disapproval in her throat. "That's not saying much."

"But it's a drastic change that makes me doubt the reality of all this." She opened her eyes, willing the two Sarah's that formed to become one. "Snape would never…"

"Would never?"

"He'd never treat me with anything less than contempt and he…he asked me to join him for dinner right before I collapsed."

"But you told him you were with Adrian, right?"

"He knows it wasn't a date," Hermione pointed out. "He wanted to spend time with someone who came from his world."

"Hmm."

"What?" Hermione could tell there was something Sarah wasn't saying, even in her impaired condition.

"I think he may appear nicer to you because he fancies you," Sarah said, using a faux English accent to say, 'fancies.'

Hermione nearly choked on her own saliva as she inhaled a breath to laugh out loud. "I know a lot of wizards, Sarah, and I can assure you that the very last wizard in the British Magical community to want to date me, is Snape. I mean, Draco Malfoy is more likely to want to date me."

Sarah gave her a dubious look and then her shoulders sagged. "I just think you should stay away from him. Think about Adrian."

Hermione mustered a puzzled look before she closed her eyes. Fatigue was washing over her once again.

"Sleep, Hermione. I will come and visit you again later."

Severus had taken off deep into the Labyrinth. He rarely came here. He rarely left the castle. But he needed to get away from Granger. He was spending too much time with her and she was becoming all too familiar with him.

He was starting to care what she thought of him. And that was dangerous. He ought not to care that she was shocked and surprised by his transformation. He should never have revealed his softer, more genuine side to her. He should have treated her with the callousness that she was used to from him.

His long legs crossed and recrossed the same path until he grew tired of his march and slumped against a dusty, crumbling wall. He hated this place. He hated that not even the walls could be relied upon. He hated that an inanimate maze was more Slytherin than he was.

He pulled out the acorn pendant and let it rest heavily in his palm. He stared at it as if it held all the answers to his predicament. Not that it was really a predicament. One way or another Granger would return to her home and he'd been foolish to entertain any idea of returning with her. What was he thinking?

Severus didn't want any harm to befall her but he couldn't help the selfish gratitude that seeped into his veins that she had started to lose consciousness and had forgotten, or had appeared to have forgotten—the fact he had asked her if she would care if he visited her or not. She had also not mentioned the fact he had asked her to join him for dinner. Like the fucking idiot he was.

He violently dug his heel into the wall behind him out of sheer spite. The Labyrinth reacted by opening a pit right by his feet that he neatly sidestepped. He kicked a stone into the gaping maw and cursed the blasted maze.

He could feel the angry vibrations tremble through the aged walls before they hit him. He scoffed and jumped up from the ground as the walls closed in and flew skyward. He hovered over the spot he'd been standing for a few moments before reluctantly taking himself back to the castle.

Minutes later he landed lightly on a balcony and hurriedly collected himself before storming through the heavy black curtain that served as a door.

King Jareth sat in the room beyond, playing with his crystal balls.

"You've upset her again," he stated.

Severus didn't know if he meant Granger or the spiral of ancient walls outside.

"Yes," he replied tersely. He had probably upset Granger when he stormed out.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "It's a talent I have."

Jareth hummed, pushed effortlessly up from his sitting position and practically floated across the room.

"She wasn't wearing her pendant when I visited her," Jareth commented, slowing to a stop directly in front of him. "Have you removed it?"

"She returned it."

"Why?" Jareth asked, cocking his head.

"It served its purpose."

"Has it?"

"It brought her here to inform me of the result of the war," Severus replied. "What other use has it got?"

"Perhaps to protect her from the magic depletion the Labyrinth is subjecting her to."

"That would have been provided if she had unlocked it, but she has not," Severus replied, carelessly. He needed to check on his patient. She was about due for another round of potions. He could keep her alive and safe with his potions until such time as her return to the Above where hopefully her magic would return in spades.

"And how would she have unlocked it?" Jareth asked, a strange gleam in his eyes.

"By simply asking it to reveal its potential," he said, in a shaky voice. "Potentiale revelare. The acorn is the symbol of potential, because from it, mighty oaks grow. The arch she walked through must have simply recognised enough of the Labyrinth's magic to bring her here without unlocking the actual acorn."

Jareth watched him with a shrewd look on his pompous face.

"The magic should still be intact," Severus said slowly.

"I do imagine that it has unlimited potential, Severus." Jareth said, crossing his arms. "After all it is imbued with my magic too, and I don't believe it ceases to exist just because it brought her here without her using it."

Severus hid his horror that His Majesty was right. His first instinct was to rush to her to return the acorn, but he tempered his impulse with a curt nod and by placing his hands behind his back.

"That is one possibility I may have overlooked," he replied, his thoughts racing madly to the forefront. The magic he gave the acorn to bring Granger here was merely a portkey spell blessed by the Labyrinth which would have protected her. As it is, the Labyrinth recognises the acorn, but the wearer could be anyone because the magic contained within remains untouched. He had been foolish not to request that she unlocked it upon arrival. Then none of this would have happened. The Labyrinth wouldn't assume that the wearer was a thief, because it would have recognised the magic as its own. Anyone else that had tried to unlock the acorn wouldn't have succeeded. It was only keyed to Granger. So the Labyrinth, quite rightly, assumed that a wearer without the capabilities of unlocking the magic was an intruder.

Jareth bared his sharp teeth. "Then, by all means, go return it to her."

Severus hesitated for a moment before his long feet swallowed up the distance between him and Granger. While she had been stable and conscious, he hadn't actually gotten around to fixing the underlying issue. He'd let his emotions and his fear of rejection heighten the conflict between them.

He had wanted the acorn back because to let her keep it would be ascribing too much sentimentality to an object. And his reasons for giving it to her had been logical and clinical. He couldn't let his sudden awareness of her as an adult…as a woman…cloud his judgement.

He couldn't give any credence to the burgeoning desire inside him. She was unavailable and so must his heart be.