There is going to be torture... just so you're warned (personally I think I described it rather mildly)...
A kiss.
And then another one.
She breathed heavily as she wound her arms around his neck, digging her fingers into his shoulders and his hair. He smelt of herbs, soap and male sweat – of heat – and she drank it all in as they devoured each others' mouths. To think that she had been at the brink of giving it all up – she sighed hotly as he detached his lips just the barest millimeter from her lips, before diving back in.
Hermione swallowed, drinking in his taste, relishing in the hint of mint and toffee she detected as his tongue danced in her mouth.
It was strange how erotic his kisses were. Admittedly she did not have a lot of experience in that particular department, having hid in an all-boys boarding school as a girl, but the way his tongue pulled hers, teased hers, tasted her was almost too much for her.
Never during her days, and never before him, had she ever felt so quite thoroughly and positively possessed, she could not imagine – not in any way – that she would ever belong to someone else as she did to this man.
Severus sighed when she fell into his arms, humming when he kissed the top of her head delicately. He was still shivering from the meeting, but the way her arms wound around him grounded him – made him realize all the more just what he was fighting for.
Hermione could probably tell that he was clinging to her, but lowered them anyways, allowing him to pull her to him and hide his face in the crook of her neck as he leant against the nearest trunk. She always allowed him to hide in her neck, allowed him to grieve for a few minutes, before he composed himself and would follow her to where their tent stood.
The Black Phoenix Witches had decided, by whatever miracle, to trust him and even to rely on his information – it was strange how three young ladies took up the place that Albus had left vacant in his life. Though if he could choose between them and say Potter or Minerva, he'd still voluntarily choose these three, aspiring, young women, who would sit down with him and discuss their options with him, involving him in the planning procedure for the first time since he'd started giving reports to anyone.
That and they were always kind enough to make sure he was healthy when he left them – they even had a separate coot only for him in their tent. He felt insecure about anyone seeing him bare, especially the three of them, but was surprised to see that Luna could heal just as fine if she touched only a part of the skin of her patient.
"It's all about feeling into the body of the person." She breathed airily as he had asked her about her trait – he'd never encountered anything similar. "When I open myself completely to the person I touch, I can see… their magical network inside of them, I can tell where they are hurt, where a curse hit and I can easily heal it."
Hermione supposed that Luna's healing was amplified with her being a highly trained Occlumens as, he found out, all three of them were.
"At first it was interesting – and then it became obvious that we would need it, direly."
He breathed Hermione's scent, she had washed earlier that day – but he could smell earth on her, and just the slightest hint of sweat, along with something that he could only describe as Hermione. Strangely enough the scent equalled up to 'Home' in his mind.
"Are you okay?" she asked silently – she was straddling him, cradling his head softly to her, while her other arm was wound around his shoulder, giving him a feeling of utter protection. He hummed into her neck – for the first time since a week, he'd not been at the receiving end of any curse. However Potter and his little friends were slowly but surely losing hope.
"We need to talk." He said silently, not wishing to really part from her, "He wants to strike, he's getting ready. And the DA are sorely un-prepared, they underestimated their opponents…" Hermione pulled him closer, rocking him and cooing gently – he had never thought that he would find the woman to understand his worries so completely in Hermes Granger, Know-It-All-Gryffindor.
Pansy and Luna watched as Hermione and the Professor retreated to the woods after their meeting. Neither said a word, even as they took in the linked fingers, the small distance between the bodies that had nothing to do anymore with the freshness of the night.
"How surreal for these two to have finally found each other…" Pansy finally said quietly, still watching the retreating couple with her green eyes.
Luna said nothing at first and so they stood yet longer, watching as the two vanished behind the tree-line and into the thick Forest. "We often find a streak of light in the darkest of times." She finally breathed. "I can only hope that they will find each other under different circumstances as well."
Pansy did not answer to the enigmatic phrase for a long time – she hoped, just like Luna, that should both die, or both survive, or one die, that they would find each other in another world yet again.
"They would deserve it, after all." She finally answered.
"Kiss me." Her whisper was so pretty.
Severus pressed against her, trapping her between a rough tree and his equally unforgiving body – the witch did not seem to mind as she responded vigorously to his demanding lips. If anything she used the hard tree as leverage to climb him and now found herself safely trapped, her feet wound around his pelvis.
He was heated. Hermione was so beautiful when she looked at him like this – with her big eyes, clouded with lust, her hair sticking out at all ends, her delectable body pressed so closely to his. Both of his hands were full of her strong thighs as he held her up, while her arms were wound around his shoulders – he had never thought that he was strong enough as to hold himself and another person up like that while kissing. He sure had never tried with any of the whores on Knockturn Alley.
Her kisses were small miracles – given only to him. She tasted of all kinds of sorts – honey, Raki, herbs, water, sugar, apples; he found that he could not give the taste a definite name, for it changed so frequently. It made the addiction of kissing her all the sweeter, every time his tongue delved into her cavern, he was surprised with yet another flavour; it was fantastic.
A small moan liberated itself from her throat and hungrily Severus swallowed it, roughly pressing her against the tree as she raked her fingers through his mane – his ego aspired to new heights. Had he known that he would be gifted with Hermione, he would never have waited for his time to come – he drank her soft sigh as he squeezed her thighs and she responded with a slight flexing of her muscles, drawing him nearer yet.
Severus was loath to break away, but he knew that sooner or later he had to go. Slowly he gentled the kiss, tuning it down to nips at the succulent lips of the witch in his arms, until they stopped their kissing altogether, staying only connected by touch. He liked the way that she put her forehead to his, closed her eyes and heaved a satisfied sigh – she trusted him without a second thought and it honoured him to be at the receiving end of her beautiful smiles... much like when she'd smiled at him in first year.
"You should probably go." She finally sighed and he could tell by the smallness of her voice that she hoped that perhaps, somehow this could be forgone and forgotten and that he would stay – but it could not be.
"I know." The headmaster closed his eyes and hid in the nook of her neck, where she kept him safe. "Just a few more minutes."
The way she wrapped herself around him and squeezed his shoulders gently, she seemed to say, you can take all the time you need and he smiled softly into her delicate flesh – he could not remember even having felt so complete.
"Crucio!"
Blackness surrounded her as she closed her eyes, hoping that soon the pain would die away, hoping – against hope – that the curse would lose its potency sooner or later, hoping that the man above her was not shooting meaningful glances at the strange, haggard woman at the end of the room, who had been twirling a silver-knife that looked definitely like mean business.
"Crucio!"
She needed to keep her wits about her – she needed to, as long as she did, her Glamours would keep her safe.
Two times Two is Four, Two times Three is Six, ...
She hardly felt her body anymore, everything was aflame, and the curse that her friends had so often cast at her in order to prepare for exactly this coursed through her, strangling her nerves like a haywire,
Three times Six is Eighteen, Three times Seven is Twenty-One,...
All in all Hermione was probably lucky that they 'only' sought to torture her and not enter her mind additionally – apparently that idea had only stemmed from their minds, it was not Voldemort's actual procedure. Perhaps she should be happy, perhaps she should be scared – if she lost consciousness around them her secret would be revealed; everything depended on this secret, for if it was found out that she was a woman, she would be vulnerable, she would be defenceless, she would be friendless, helpless, she would have nowhere to go – not even Severus would be able to help her then.
"Crucio!"
Five times Four is Twenty, Five times Five is Twenty-Five,...
The man above her was called LeStrange, if she'd heard correctly – that's right, dear, keep your tabs on them, somebody will want to know... – and apparently the woman that now bent over her was his wife. They couldn't get anything out of her with the wand...
"Don't get too messy, darling."
The woman smiled like a predator. And then the door shut.
Luna and Pansy were both huddled in the small cell – it was cold, it was damp, it was dark. But most of all: it was fiend territory.
The Forest had been silent; tree-tops dancing in the wind as they usually did, sun – finally – shone and the three of them tried to get as much of it as possible. The beauty had stopped them only for a few moments.
"See," Pansy grinned, "it's a good morning – we should take it as a good omen."
Luna and Hermione had both agreed, before the three of them apparated to Diagon Alley – right in front of the Gringotts Goblin Bank. For it was here that their journey would find yet another milestone.
Hermione dared to turn around, checking the street in their back – it was empty, gray, littered with old papers and shards of broken windows, not a witch or a wizard was seen beneath the constantly gray sky of England. "We should probably go in." She said detachedly.
It had been a long time since they had last seen Diagon Alley and it was strangely difficult to relay this sight to the formerly bright and bustling shopping Alley they had grown used to, but it was for the best indeed if they would simply enter the bank – Goblins held no interest in the war after all, the bank could be described as what muggles called a 'Green Zone'.
And that's the way it was. Goblins stacked papers, signed them, brought them from A to B, put stamps on them, brought them from B to C – the inner workings of Gringotts had not changed at all, not even since the start of the war. Though, since wizards and witches hardly dared to leave their homes or shelters anymore, the customers left out – it was just as fine for the Glamoured witches, they were cared about immediately.
"Imperio."
Hermione had chosen her victim well – under her disillusionment charm as to not openly attack a Goblin – she had aimed her wand at the one Goblin she'd crossed more often than not in Diagon Alley, back when Tom's Leaky had still been open.
"How can I help you?"
Luna glanced shyly at Pansy, unsure still about the plan – and Hermione admitted that the plan was half-cocked at best, but it was all they had.
"We wish to enter the LeStrange's vault."
A Goblin who'd been transporting a stack of papers four times higher than himself passed behind them, but neither noticed him stopping ever so shortly, watching with leery eyes the two young men that were now led to vault 13. How very fitting, Hermione thought as they stepped on the cart.
It wasn't until all of a sudden they swished through a waterfall that cleaned away not only the last dirt of them but also Hermione's spell that they realized they were being followed.
"They got wind!" Pansy whispered frantically, but Hermione was thinking along different lines – the waterfall had washed away her spell... She turned her head to the side, realizing that Griphook held his head wearily.
"Imperio." The Goblin's face returned to a mask of indifferent politeness. "Open the vault for us."
"Of course." The old goblin said, happy to oblige the strange new master and went to press his hand to the door. The three young men stopped almost instantly as the first door opened.
"A dragon..." Luna whispered wonderingly.
"Has to be." Pansy whispered. "But it's blind..."
About to set to the task of evading the blind – but probably none the less viscous – dragon, Griphook continued to open the vault. He pulled Clankers from a bag, rattling them and smiling strangely satisfied when the dragon – about to strike – reared back in what appeared to be fear. The young men followed befuddled, until Luna made the observation that lifted the mystery.
"The scars on its face... some aren't even healed completely yet."
Hermione almost lost control on Griphook when her mind connected the statement to the fact, but she shook her head – the dragon had not been hurt by them, they had nothing to reproach themselves... better yet, they were stealing from the monsters that assured that this creature learned to fear burning swords.
"The vault, sir..."
Stepping in, the real search began. Marlene had told them that they'd find Huffelpuff's cup in the LeStrange's vault. Because it would appear Voldemort had entrusted this one Horcrux to his most loyal servants to protect. It took but Luna to pick up a cup for them to realize several things.
Bang – went the door
"It burnt me." – Obviously spells had been applied to keep the ultimate treasure safe – heat emanated now from twenty more duplicated cups. "Don't touch anything." Hermione said, but while she did so, nudged one of the fake cups with her foot which in turn exploded into twenty more heat-emanating cups. The room was small and heat radiated quickly.
Clanking – Outside. "We do not have time... where is the cup?"
Fearful for the first time of what might come, the three of them cast around with bright wand-ends, searching until finally they had found it, perching high atop the multiplying and hot treasures that would multiply upon touch.
"Levicorpus."
Hermione hoisted herself up in the air, thinking twice about touching the Cup and finally deciding to grab it with a small tissue – the effect was the desired one.
"THIEVES!"
Hermione, undid her spell just as the first Goblin opened the door and rolled into a quickly multiplying mount of gold that heated her skin and blistered her back – but at least it provided cover, at first. Goblins, it appeared, had a way to get around the Gemini and Flagranti spells that had been attached to the treasures.
"We need to flee now, while it's still possible – or else we'll be found."
"Stupefy!" Close-eyed, Luna stunned the goblins that were about to enter through the slender door outside, more of them were waiting... plus the dragon.
Hermione would later say that it was Pansy's idea, but she did not know truly who came up with the idea beforehand. All she knew was that they shot at the tethering of the blind dragon at once and then they ran.
The beast did not realize at first that it was free – but when it did, Hermione was glad that they already sat atop its' broad back, Luna between Pansy and Hermione, clinging to both of them simultaneously as the winged animal fought its way through what seemed to be miles of stone.
Hermione closed her eyes mostly, deafened by the roars of the dragon and the loud cracks of the stone, the flames of the creature heated her back all the more and perhaps she cried her agony into the unforgiving scales of the dragon, but she could not remember it clearly – all she knew was that her eyes were flooded with light almost too quickly.
At one moment they were in the great entrance hall of the bank, wizards milling around them and then the dragon had swept out of the bank and up into the sky, quickly gaining a distance to the one place it had been tortured for so long.
It had been successful, the Cup destroyed by the time that the Snatchers had found them, and had then lost their bounty to tracking Death Eaters.
Severus studied Moste Potente Potions – his eyes strained to capture the small letters, his mind fought vividly for the concentration to understand the words and the phrases.
Hermione's cries had died down to whimpers, but Severus knew that even against all his wishes, he could not blow his cover – he could not simply walk into the room and demand that Hermione be handed over to him. At the moment he had to duck most of all, Riddle had just stopped using him as an anger-puppet, he would be of no use to the Black Phoenix Witches if he'd take up his position as kicking-dog again.
It was hence that he had secluded himself in Lucius' library, only two rooms away from the drawing room where Hermione and Bellatrix were locked as of now, and forced himself to look as normal as somehow possible.
First of all: Seclusion had always been his tactic to make sure that none of the rest would know how to read him exactly – save for Lucius, perhaps, who however would keep his mouth shut in order to be able to deliver Severus to the Order or the Ministry in case Voldemort lost the war.
And secondly: It was not out of the usual that whenever someone else was tortured, he'd go reading some book, (acting) bored out of his mind and occupied with something else entirely more important – there was always something to do.
Finally there was silence.
The tendons in his nerves crackled with the willingness to deliver the order to surge, to open the door and whisk Hermione away into safety – away from Malfoy Manor, away from Great Britain, away from the war. His muscles strained to remain where they were, his face disciplined into an iron mask of nonchalance while he waited for the door to open.
Bellatrix emerged, wiping the Cursed Blade on her ragged dress before she stalked down the hall and down the stairs – the second floor was unwatched.
"Peetey."
The elf appeared without a sound, much as she had when she had secretly catered to the Black Phoenix Witches – it amazed Severus still, how willingly the elf had chosen Hermione for her mistress and serve and defend the same with the vehemence she did. It had been no feat to convince her for the plan.
Without hesitance and without taking his eyes away from the slightly ajar door, through the slit of which he could see Hermes Granger lying on the floor, bleeding – but still about – he handed the elf a button and nodded shortly towards the door once.
"You know where to find the rest."
And with another silence the elf had vanished – the next moment, Hermes' head disappeared from sight.
Stones fell from Severus' shoulders when – hours later – neither of the prisoners could be found. Hermes Granger, had escaped the hands of the Lord, and Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood had escaped the fate of the Dark Mark and being exposed as witches.
I hate war... even only in literature...
