Who Do You Think You Are?!
disclaimer: no, neither ladykyo nor the separatesisters own Harry Potter, or the characters therein. We'd like to , but we don't. Feel free to give them to us if you like, though.
Chapter 2: At Snape Manor
Hermione woke to a cool cloth on her forehead and warm blankets tucked in around her in a room she didn't recognize with a fire she fervently appreciated. She tried to stretch, and found that she was rather sore. Her head began to hurt, and Hermione felt it carefully, finding an egg-sized lump on her forehead, and tenderness around both eyes. She could feel scratches on her back, face and arms, and she wondered what she looked like.
"You look rather like a Raggedy Anne doll that has been through a meat grinder. Twice," a low raspy voice said.
"Who's there?" Hermione said, trying to sit up. "Aah!" she fell back on her pillows and lay there throbbing and crying.
"Hermione!" the voice and its body ran in, and Hermione opened her eyes to find her former potions master standing over her.
"You! You bloody bastard! You saved me?!" Hermione screeched, trying to scramble backwards and away from the thin man advancing on her.
"Miss Granger, will you kindly keep still? I am trying to save your life and limbs, so stop squirming and wait to try the Killing Curse until you're well," Snape hissed. Leaning over Hermione and removing the cool cloth and the poultices Hermione hadn't even noticed. "You should have never come here, and to top that off you asked Mac for directions."
"Get off of me! I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, but get away from me. I'm not here for a social visit," Hermione growled, getting up on her knees and reaching for her wand, which would have been in her back pocket, had her jeans been whole and on her body. "Where the bloody hell are my pants?"
"You have picked up much too much from Sirs Weasley and Potter, Miss Granger. Your language is not improved by it," Snape said as he reached past Hermione for something.
"Back off," Hermione said, tucking her blankets in closer, cringing back from the man she'd admired and feared for so long. "And what do you know about what I picked up from my best friends. You were always too busy punishing us for imagined slights to take any interest in our talents."
"No, Hermione, I always saw your talents. But your personality got in the way," Snape said as he presented Hermione with a bundle of scarlet something or other. "Your clothes were, shall we say, destroyed in Mac's assault. Had I not arrived, you surely would have been robbed of your virtue, and what would Mr. Weasley say to that? You should b so lucky that I arrived in the nick of time."
"Oh yes, saved from one molester by another. Wonderful. Am I to be 'robbed of my virtue' by you, now?" Hermione spat out, gathering the robes to her chest to cover her tattered shirt. She hadn't noticed anything when she woke, but with the intimidating man sitting next to her, taking care of her and checking on her was making her nervous.
Snape stiffened at her accusation and he rose from the couch, his professorial veneer back. "Miss Granger, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to your virtue and me. I can promise you now that come hell or high water, I will not touch you," Snape said coldly as he trotted out of the room.
"Put the damn robes on and come down to the small kitchen for something to eat. You never should have come – we are in the middle of a freak flood, and you are stuck her until the storms stop and the water recedes."
"It is Ms. Granger to you, Severus!"
Hermione had thrown that last parting shot to her former teacher before she had thought about it. Surely she didn't have to address him as she had when she'd been his student, but referring to herself as a Ms., not 'Miss' must have imparted the fact that she was no snow-white Madonna. The look on Snape's face as he left told her that he understood what she had meant: she was a woman, and someone else's woman to boot.
Hermione took a breath and threw the blankets off, rising gingerly from the couch and examining the damage. Her legs were bruised near her hips, but other than those, her legs were fine.
'Not like anyone will ever see them again,' Hermione thought to herself. 'He'll never let me leave alive.'
She carefully removed her sweater and t-shirt, wincing at the movements. When she stood in her bra and panties, Hermione strode over to a dusty mirror to examine the rest of the damage. Her arms were crisscrossed with small scratches and bruises while her face was a complete mess: the egg-sized lump, two black eyes, and split lip completed her visage.
Hermione sighed and pulled the robes on, thankful for their warmth and coverage. She fastened the dress over her slim form and pulled the actual robes over her shoulders with care to her injuries. The scarlet dress pulled across her chest and the empire waist combined with the daring vee of the bodice emphasized her curves. The over-robes added shadow which visually slimmed her waist and enhanced her bust. The robes trailed on the floor and Hermione looked for but found no shoes. The floor was chilled, but Hermione sucked it up and made her way to the small kitchen, would in happier times would have been used to feed the family on nights there were no visitors.
Hermione padded into the kitchen and saw Snape conversing with a house-elf that was listening in rapt attention. Hermione cleared her throat and Snape dismissed the servant and turned his attention to his former student. He froze for a moment while he took in the picture of Hermione in the exquisite dress robes. It was only for a moment, but Hermione caught it.
"Good, Granger. Are you hungry?" Snape said as he moved around the kitchen, almost as if he were quite used to it.
"Yes, I am. But I think I'll fix something for myself," Hermione said, moving past him and reaching into a random cupboard. "Don't want to be poisoned, do I?"
Snape slammed the cupboard door shut and leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear. "Are you always so quick to assume the worst of others, Miss Granger? You are basing your opinion on what Harry Potter thought he saw that night."
Hermione stood stock-still as Snape breathed on her and she wondered if the end had already come for her. "I am judging you are what I've known of you for the past six years, Severus. And what Harry saw the night Dumbledore died. You've never given me anything else to go on."
Snape inhaled quickly and pulled back from her ear. "Perhaps you have learned something after all these years. But you still bait me, don't you?"
Hermione turned to face him fully, and she didn't like what she saw in his face. "I've never baited you, not outright. If you recall, I don't need to resort to anything like that – I am more than intelligent enough to get by on my own. What would you like to accuse me of next, Severus?"
Severus hissed and stepped towards her, "You disrespect me, child. If you were to disrespect a servant of Voldemort, it would be death."
"Then I guess I know what curse I have to shield myself from," Hermione said, sticking her face in his, growling like a tigress. She pulled her head back and circled her former teachers, growling still and prowling like a jungle cat. "Go ahead, if you think you, a washed-out ex-teacher and fugitive, can muster up a curse to fell the brightest witch of the age."
"Why bother? When the boys die, you follow soon after. You never were strong without them. What good is knowledge if you're too afraid to use it?"
Hermione roared and slapped him across the face, before she ran out of the kitchen, angry at him, angry at herself, and wondering if he was right.
AN: Here it goes. From here on out, the story is basically writing itself. I'd like to get 3 reviews before I post the next chapter. 3 more reviews isn't too much to ask for, is it?
Brenna