Animal Magnetism

Disclaimer: I, sadly, own nothing of the Harry Potter 'Verse. I just like to play with them time to time. Especially Severus.

A/N: Next chapter is the last chapter. Where will this go? Stay tuned to find out.

Chapter 22

"And this was just waiting for you on your pillow when you woke up?" the old wizard asked two hours later, sounding almost fascinated as he fingered the small silver key with an emerald at the crux. Hermione sighed, mentally rolling her eyes. Trust him to focus on the least important detail. "Yes. I saw it sometimes after I rolled off the bed, but-" "Any idea what it is for? A trunk perhaps?" he interrupted. "No, but in the dream, which really seemed more like a vision, Harry and Ron-" "And what do you suppose the key is in connection to?" She swore there was a twinkle in his eyes, though his head was turned and he seemed a bit distracted. Her fingers drummed on the desk.

"I don't know. But there could possibly be two deaths on the horizon, if not three. And that's not counting the body count outside the room where we fought." She finally got out, once again leaving out the parts involving Severus's declarations and what happened just before she woke. If the key was in relation to that, maybe she was better off not knowing at the moment. She still wasn't quite ready to deal with that. But Dumbledore seemed to put great stock in the stupid key, which annoyed her. There were so many other important things at hand. "Was there any other changes in the dream? You said there was something with your hair?"

Gritting her teeth now [was that really significant?], she replied, "Oddly enough, my hair was short there and I'd been thinking of cutting it today." Her tone made the statement almost a sarcastic question, unsure of where he was going with all this. Wizarding Alzheimer's? His sudden expression change weirded her out and worried her at the same time. "And the scenery?" Dumbledore asked, sounding tired now. "Dark. Cold. I don't know. It was half in a dungeon, half one floor up. And I was more focused on the Dark Lord and my dying friends. Werewolves too. Oh, and the blood lust. What is this about, sir?" He sat back down, suddenly looking old beyond even his years. "The full moon is in five days and Severus has disappeared completely. So has Harry. Two days ago."

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed numbly. Time was running out. The refrain circled round and round in her head like a broken record. Logic told her she was just wasting more time sitting there in a daze, but logic wasn't even figuring in right now. If she was thinking straight, she might've realized that meant something. Irony. Not new to her. Why couldn't she remember more? No wonder the Headmaster was so focused on the little details. She was so stupid. And arrogant, blind, childish, etc etc. this was her fault, she concluded suddenly, feeling like a hard blow was dealt to her. For ignoring and avoiding them. For not acting sooner. General foolishness. Hiding out in that room and thus missing the news.

And let's not forget making everyone think she was missing too, even accidently. She caused this. She clutched her stomach, mentally going into a dark spiral. Severus and Harry [who likely thought he'd save the spy and her] could be dead right now because of her. Maybe the dream wasn't a vision after all. They were probably dead and she was nowhere close. At least Ron was still here, she told herself, trying to breath normally again. She set up wards around his room and- Hermione bolted up quickly, eyes wild. The wards were going off right at that moment. Ron! Running as fast as she could, she still missed the mark. He was gone too. Her scream split the air, an odd pain crashing through her skull- then everything went dark. "Too late."

The first time she regained consciousness she felt like her insides were being torn up… and then torn out. The second time it felt like strips and chunks were being taken out of her and hot pokers were shoved in, all while chained to a wall. The third time she knew at least part of her dream had come to life; she was being carved up like a Thanksgiving day turkey, Harry and Ron were dead or dying, and Severus… Twin tears slipped down dirty cheeks from eyes that should've been too damaged to cry, blurring already fuzzy vision. At least she was alone this time and none of her tormentors were here to mock or punish her show of pain. Small mercies.

But what did it matter? She was dead anyway, wasn't she? That part of the dream had to be a lie. What hope did she have to escape? Especially in her condition. Two more tears trickled free. So what hope did the others have? Her two closest friends and her… what? Lover? Was that over-simplifying it? 'Mate,' sang through her mind. 'Love.' Oh God, she really did. She loved him. She was so ignorant. And now he'd never know, would he? She'd never know for sure if he felt more than just desire or that strange fixation. She still couldn't believe he'd persisted. If she could ever get another chance… 'No,' Hermione told herself. She didn't need to do melancholy right now. And it didn't matter if he wouldn't have given her another shot. He was strong, loyal, sexy and commanding, and… she'd still love him.

Her eyes squeezing shut at the bright, burning agony shooting through her, she hung her head. and the weight of it seemed to bring her to the floor. The shock of her knees hitting the cold stone floor, hard, made her eyes crack back open. She was free of the chains. "How…?" she breathed, turning to stare at the steel cuffs in wonder. The move lanced her with stabbing pains, but it was next to nothing after the long days of torture and hope flared brilliantly inside her. Now she just had to find a way out of the cell to save her friends. And her mate. 'I can help,' her creature whispered, sounding a bit sluggish due to the blood loss but still determined, an echo of a dream.

Hermione cringed away from that voice out of habit. And she became all too aware of the hunger in the pit of her stomach. "No," the witch choked out. "I will not give in. I can't." She tried to stand, supporting herself on the bars, but failed miserably, crashing back to the ground and still bleeding. 'You can't make it alone. Our mate needs us.' Severus. Her expression softened. If she could save him… Her heart thudded painfully, breath still. "Yes," she rasped, two more tears falling. "Ok. Help me save them. Help me save him." All the air rushed right out of her as the slashed muscles and scorched flesh stretched, every nerve-ending screaming. But her throat was too torn from her tortures cries throughout her stay to even raise her voice now.

The blood in her veins [what remained of it] boiled, heart not restarting and causing panic to well. She clutched her chest, eyes wide, bones cracking… breaking…reshaping. Her gums peeled, cut and bleeding, fangs dropping. It felt like being slowly impaled with a butter-knife, perhaps less sharp but coming with an unbearable deep-down pressure before it finally broke the skin and kept going. And she damned her keen senses for multiplying it a hundred fold. She was dying, she knew it. Or was already dead and in hell. 'Severus.' It was a sob and a prayer. Holding on to it, on all fours, she shook and shuddered, but not another tear fell. 'I'm coming. No matter what, we will not fail.' The thoughts blared stubbornly where she couldn't speak, vision tingeing red and black as her hair grew around her like a funeral shroud.

If the last thing she ever did was break out of here to face the Dark Lord, she wouldn't regret it one second. If Harry could sacrifice himself for countless strangers, so could she. She'd always been the quiet, under-stated one who was quick with the brain power but hesitant [almost fearful] in battle. Afraid of herself, afraid of what the future might hold. But not now. And maybe she could finally learn to love herself too. So caught up in the tearing feeling in her limbs, she didn't notice the stinging glow coming from her region of her back pocket. But she did notice the heavy thud and high-pitched squeal of the cage's door swinging open.

Gaping, the pain ebbing, she touched her chest, for a second alarmed at the knocking before she realized it was her heart again. Then her hand went to her back pocket. The key. Love. Out of nowhere she felt like laughing. "And so it begins." Walking up the stairs painfully but confidently, she went to make the last part of her dream reality too. With one or two changes. This time she'd walk in whole, accepting of her second half, and two… A wicked grin spread over her face, elongated canines gleaming in the dim light. A long Death Eater leaned against the doorjamb up ahead, looking half-asleep. Her stomach growled. Two, she would be well fed.

Next Chapter:

The moon waned in the sky. She woke again- chilled. She was alone. The fire had died completely. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise high once more, lighting on all the shadows and stark imperfections. And it left her feeling empty. Had they all survived or was this some twisted version of hell? Had it all been simply another dream? Hopelessness reigned as Hermione quickly spelled herself some clothes, thinking maybe she should just leave-