The thudding of her footsteps resonated in her ears, she was running past shadows and thorns welded onto the dark pillars hindering her journey. The intimidating shapes pushed away to let her pass, then closed ominously behind her until she reached the clearing.
It was there.
The Beast, panting on the soft moss. Black blood made a puddle on the ground where its jaws ravaged the underbrush. It bared its teeth in warning, struggling to get up from the spot where it lay.
She approached it, her wand held aloft. A bright light emanated from her, and the beast calmed its frantic struggles. Its black fur was matted down, its flanks damp with the sweat of pain.
She stepped up to it and knelt down, her eyes hard, her mouth quivering, robes billowed about her knees like the dark petals of a poisonous bloom.
The Beast raised its ugly head into her lap, where her fingers caressed its snout, looking deep into its eyes. She let a careless tear slip down onto its fur as she held it close, in a comforting embrace.
Suddenly, the Beast rose on its scarred haunches, coughing blood onto her with the effort. There was a hole in its side where something had pierced it deeply, and its face was disfigured by grimaces and snarls. But she did not back away. It waited, panting and coughing, testing her, then leaned forward and gently licked the blood off her tearstained cheeks.
She closed her eyes, allowing it this.
Then, pointing her ward up at its chest, she spoke.
"Avada Ked-," she began, but she found herself unable to finish the phrase as the Beast opened its jaws and devoured her.
---
When she dared open her eyes she was warm, and somewhere deep and soft. She could feel the animal's breathing. Laying very still, she realized where she actually was.
Shit. I need to get back to my room before it gets any later or I might get caught.
Disentangling herself from the sheets and Severus' arm around her waist, she drew herself out of the bed.
The cold was biting. She was, after all, in the dungeons, and while it had been very cozy curled up in Severus' embrace under the thick sheets, the air outside themed was frigid. Her nude form covered in goose bumps, she lit her wand and groped around the floor for her clothes, which she hurriedly put on before slipping out of Snape's chambers and into the hall.
Whispering the password and slipping into the common room, she remembered her latest dream.
She could feel its jaws around her, her wand gripped in her hand, the stillborn words of destruction poised on her tongue.
I've been having such strange dreams... such vivid dreams...
It's almost as if I'm seeing glimpses of something more real than Life. Only I know I am in the dreams, and I am me in the dreams, I saw the blood and heard those voices.
She curled up under her warm sheets, snuggling down close and thinking about her new lover – or was she? It seemed that just as she had Snape's form focused in her mind, his image changed into Sirius'. Shivering, she fluffed off the phenomena and let her thoughts drift back to the dreams.
Maybe they're just memories.
---
"Wake up, Hermione!" insisted the voice.
"Wha..." Hermione groaned sleepily.
What the -?
Oh. It's Ron.
Hermione blearily opened her eyes.
"What's up with you? You're usually up and doing more homework by the time I'm awake," he commented.
"I'm coming, I'm coming..." she sighed, getting up from her warm bed and gathering her clothes. "I'll meet you at the table..."
She shuffled into the bathroom as Ron left.
Sooooooo Coooooooold...
She turned the faucet in the shower to hot and clambered clumsily into the tub. The hot water caroused over her form, waking and soothing her from a deep, troubled sleep.
Fifteen minutes later, she willed herself to move and turned off the water, dressing amongst the cloudy steam.
---
"Good morning guys," she said cheerfully, plopping down between Ron and Neville at the Gryffindor table.
"You seem quite chipper," commented Ginny, who was opposite her. "Finally finish all your homework for the next couple months?" she teased.
"Yeah, you weren't that upbeat when I woke you up this morning," said Ron in mock suspicion. "In fact, I think you gave me the bona fide 'glare of death' when you went to shower."
"Try transfiguring water to coffee," she replied, pouring milk on her oatmeal. "It works wonders."
"By the way Hermione," queried Ron, "You haven't been back in our room before midnight for the past three days." He paused to take a bite of toast with marmalade (perfectly orange, this morning.) "And don't tell me you were in the library either because I checked.
"I had detention," admitted Hermione, embarrassed. She took a sip of orange juice, trying to stay poised.
"Oh right," said Ron. "I forgot that bastard Snape gave you detention for the rest of the week. So what's he making you do, scrub out cauldrons by hand?"
"Snape gave you detention?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it was always Neville or Harry he punishes. And aside from that, have you, Hermione, ever in your career as a student gotten a detention before this?"
"Only once before," she replied. "And that was all Harry and Ron's fault!" She pointed a fork full of sausage accusingly at her friends. Harry, who sill wasn't speaking to her, ignored the gesture. Instead, he gripped the letter in his hand all the harder.
Ron rolled his eyes and Ginny laughed.
---
The paper was slightly crumpled from being stuffed in Harry's pocket that morning, but it wasn't too much worse for the wear. He'd hidden it in his robes as soon as the mail had come, no one had noticed. They had been too engrossed in their conversation. He finally unfolded Sirius' letter and read it. It was short, but told him all he had asked.
---
It was never awkward between them. Here was Hermione Granger, prancing into her Potion Master's private chambers nonchalantly, met by a warm kiss and a hot cup of tea, conversation by the fire, followed by passionate love-making...
And none of it was awkward.
She had expected getting right down to business, more or less like the previous three detentions, when she stepped into the dungeons. But no, it wasn't so, nor should it have been so.
"Good evening," Severus said, looking up from his work and smiling. He came over to her and kissed her simply, on the cheek.
"Hi," Hermione replied, smiling brightly. She was led over to a cozy armchair and offered some tea, which left a distinct sweet favor on her tongue after the first sip.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Severus sat in the chair opposite her, and took a thoughtful sip of his beverage. "I have something for you," be said quietly, and handed her a rectangular package, wrapped in brown paper, that had been lying beside his chair. Her hands were illuminated in the firelight as she took it.
Unwrapping the paper, she discerned that the gift was a book. The wrapping trailed from her lap to the floor as she lifted the tome to the firelight, to read its title.
"Ancient Wizerding Mythology and Folklore -A Nascent Magic."
It was not an old book, rather, it bore a glossy hardback cover and the pages were rimmed in gold leaf. It was also very, very thick - and must have cost a considerable sum.
"Oh my goodness... thank you so much!" she exclaimed in astonishment, her joy transforming into a grin as she flipped through it. It was filled with all sorts of information about the beginnings of magic and how it related to Muggle mythology, how the two were really one and the same.
"I've always been interested in this sort of thing... But I've never seen a book of this size devoted to it."
"It's very new, it hasn't officially reached the shops yet," he said shredly. "The author is a friend... I've been helping him edit it actually, and he let me have a copy. Hot off the press. I'm glad you like it."
"Oh I do, it's beautiful." She turned to the title page.
By Albus Dumbledore. Of course.
"Dumbledore wrote this?"
"He's one of the most knowledgeable wizards alive today. And he was very close with Nicholas Flamel, whose knowledge spanned the ages, so to speak."
"What ever happened to him? Is he still alive?" queried Hermione.
"Actually he his," responded Severus. "I'm not sure how much longer his elixir will last him, but I think he'll be around for at least two or three more years."
"It must have been amazing to live for so long and learn so many things... He must have seen the rise and fall of nations, the birth of modern society, the development of Muggle technology..."
Hermione tried to imagine living through something as primitive as the middle ages, and then experiencing the birth of the internet and space travel... but she couldn't quite imagine what it would be like.
"He has indeed seen all that, and more," Severus concurred. "I would like to speak with him before he dies. Dumbledore says he is a very interesting person."
"I would think so," said Hermione. "But to live as long as he has... and then die... Harry said Dumbledore described it as something like, 'sleep after a very long day."
A very long day indeed. Sometimes I think our lives are too long as they are. I think, that mine has lasted longer than it should...
"I wouldn't care to live that long. To leave all my friends behind. I think it would be somewhat isolated." Severus' voice contained a hint of bitterness.
"Do you feel isolated?"
"I suppose I do," he answered. "Most of my acquaintances are staff members... the others I do not care for.
"Do you have any family?" she asked.
"No. I am the last of the Snape line, thank God!" he said, smiling sourly as he drained the dregs of his tea.
Hermione wrapped her palm around her cup, staring into the amber liquid.
"My family was like Sirius' family. Pureblood. Dark Arts. And mostly dead."
"Oh," Hermione responded.
How sad. To be the last in a long genealogical line... How very final.
"What about your family?" asked Severus.
"All Muggles. My parents are dentists, both only children like me, so I don't really have too much family."
"So we are sort of alike."
"Yes. Sometimes I feel more isolated than I like to," she admitted. "Harry and Ron are my best friends, but all the same, we're so different. They're boys, for one thing," she laughed. "And neither of them share my love of knowledge."
"That's too bad." Severus sighed. "But you're lucky to have two such loyal young men as your friends."
"Yes, I am."
"They care for you very much."
"They do."
She paused to take a sip of her drink, which had grown tepid. "Why do you give Harry such a hard time?" she asked gently.
"I have since repaid the debt I owed his father," Severus said quietly. "You know I hated James Potter."
Hermione nodded.
"He made my teenage years miserable. Sirius too. We don't get along."
He looked pensive and gloomy, the flickering tongues of flame licking at his dark hair.
"Sometimes I think Harry is James, and I take it out on him. Then I remember that James is dead... and that it's not Harry's fault. We don't get along, for many reasons... but I try not to be too harsh, these days."
"You always seem so bitter at the world."
"I am," he replied quietly, a smile flickering on the side of his mouth. But Hermione was staring into the flames of the fire and didn't notice.