Chapter Two: Artemis's Chase


"Harry!" Hermione scolded, harshly patting at his face as she cradled him in her lap, erratically pouring potions on the profusely bleeding snake bite at his throat. "Keep your eyes open! Don't you dare fucking close them on me. Do you hear me? I will be so angry with you if you die."

Feebly grabbing her wrist to stop her shaky pour of another vial down his throat, he croaked, "Leave me."

"I will not leave you. Don't say such a thing," she cried, curling her body over his. "I won't do it. I can't do it."

"You… have to."

"No! I know I have something in here that can help."

Shushing him as he tried to object further, she snatched another vial from her upended purse and ripped the stopper out with her teeth. Prying his mouth open as he tried to turn away from her, she poured its contents down his throat and quickly resumed the press of her hand along his bite.

"Please," she begged, her eyes turning heavenward as she felt his thready pulse slowing even more. "Please! Is there anyone who can help me?

"I'll do anything!"

"Her - Hermione," he breathed, drawing her attention back to him. "You need to run."

"NO!" she shouted. "I won't leave you alone!"

"You have to," he repeated, his eyes rolling back.

Shaking him awake, she continued to burn through her small supply of healing potions, casting every spell she knew countless times. With his blood soaking her hands and the frozen ground of the forest faster than any of her potions could work, she threw her head back and screamed into the night despite her better judgment. It wasn't fair. They had been through too much and still had more to do. Harry couldn't die; not like this. Not when he hadn't even gotten to live a real life.

"PLEASE! I'll do anything; just spare him!"

Curling back over him as she rocked them both, she wept over his head, bartering with any god who would listen.

A soft hiss of breath caught her ear and instantly silenced her laments as she strained to listen to Harry's strangled words.

"Run…"

"I already-"

"No… run…" he wheezed, his heavy hand struggling to lift up and point.

Following the direction of his unfocused gaze, she saw a glowing hound sprinting through the trees, its paws not touching the ground.

"What is that?" she breathed, hoping she remained quiet enough to have not drawn its attention.

"Run…"

"Harry, I won't."

"You have-"

His words were interrupted as its galloping pace halted, its ethereal presence shining light on them. It remained still as death, its gaze having not yet found them as it seemed to study its surroundings.

"Hermione…" he wheezed, "save yourself; I'm already gone."

Forgetting the mysterious creature, she snapped, "No!" the hound's head instantly swiveling in the direction of her voice.

"Shite… maybe the wards will hold," she said, somehow not believing the words as they came out of her mouth.

Almost as if the unearthly dog was taking her words in challenge, it resumed its hunt; its already unnatural speed doubling as it headed straight for them. Gripping her wand, ready to defend them as best she could with Harry's cooling body in her lap, she was momentarily blinded as it charged through her enchantments, shattering them.

Sparks of destroyed magic cut through the air like hot iron blades, Hermione's skin turning pink where the heated shards pierced through her shield and kissed her. Her magic was failing her in the presence of the mysterious hound; its nullifying power so strong, her wand spontaneously combusted. With it burning her hand, she threw it in the direction of the dog and stood up, grasping Harry under his arms while it was momentarily distracted by swallowing the flames and began dragging him through the needle like blades of grass that still clung to an icy existence.

"Leave me," Harry grunted as she yanked him over a fallen branch. "I can try and hold it off," he coughed, more blood trickling from his neck as his chest got splattered with the spray from his mouth. "Hermione, please; we both know I'm already dead."

She knew he was right. She had no wand, the beaded bag that had held their life had been left behind, and the potions had been failing. The most she could do was hold him as he died and even that she was failing at as the hound pursued them.

An agonizing sound left her throat as she changed direction and moved him towards a bare tree trunk. Propping him up against it as the glow of the beast started to shine on their path, she arranged his limp arms in his lap and squatted before him.

Fixing his unruly hair and straightening his glasses for the last time, Hermione hugged him and kissed his cheek, murmuring, "I love you, Harry. Being your friend was the greatest privilege of my life," her tears no match for the bloody grime that was caked on his skin as they fell from her eyes.

"I love you too, Hermione. Now run ," he whispered, his head falling with a heavy thunk against the tree.

Lingering for only a moment longer, she kissed his forehead and committed the area to memory, vowing to come back for him. Hearing the hound break through the trees, she took off racing over the uneven terrain, her heart pounding in her ears. Her breathing was ragged, a stitch blooming in her side, her body running on its second shot of adrenaline that night, her exhaustion and turmoil forgotten as she once again fought for her life.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she found that the dog was not only gaining on her but that a massive stag of at least thirteen points had joined it in pursuit of her. Knowing that without her wand, her only advantage was in being unpredictable, she took a sharp right through shredded, spindle-like trees that had icicles hanging from their branches. Tripping as she followed the steep incline downward, she threw herself to her bum and skidded down the ice packed earth, reclaiming her lost distance between her and the creatures who chased her.

At the end of the sloping section of the forest, a river bisected her path. Recalling a survival show she had seen with her dad and vaguely remembering something about increasing the difficulty of tracking by plunging into water, Hermione didn't spare a second of doubt before she jumped into the frigid river. Possibly freezing to death was a better option than whatever unknown she faced if caught and brought to whoever owned the ethereal animals.

With her teeth chattering, she plunged her head under the water and forced her protesting limbs to kick and stroke her from one bank to the other. Breaking a thin sheet of ice as she resurfaced, she hoisted herself out of the water as the hound and the stag gazed down upon her from the top of the hill. Not questioning her luck at their sudden stop, she continued running, her effort doubling under the weight of her sopping wet hair, clothes, and squelching shoes.

In the distance, a beacon of orange flames lit up a clearing that would have otherwise remained hidden to her eyes. Silently praying to the unanswering gods that she wasn't about to damn the poor souls who had made camp in the Forest of Dean, she took off towards the promise of warmth.

Sliding on the frosted earth and stumbling over branches that had given under the weight of snow and ice, her already battered body fell to more abuse. Her jeans ripped open, skinning her knees; her palms bled from where rocks and sharp twigs had broken her skin; her cheeks already burnt from the hound's destruction of her camp, blistering under the biting wind; and her hair - which had been savagely yanked free of her plait - was snagging and tearing on every low hanging branch that she was unable to completely clear in her haste to reach sanctuary.

As she drew close, her thundering heart froze, her body following suit against her command as the silence of the forest was broken by the sound hooves pounding against the ground. Of course the stag and the hound had to have a master. That they were near had been her ultimate fear and now they had taken up the chase; hunting her down now that she had been corralled to her doom.

It was a trap.

Everything around her had been set up to lure her in, promising safety when all that waited for her was death. Breathing heavily as the sound of the hooves continued to draw near, black smoke beginning to hover and creep low across the wooded floor, she bent down and grabbed the end of an icicle clad branch and wrench it up while stomping with all the strength she had left at the joint to snap it. Armed with her deadly but fragile weapon, she took off once more, ready for the coming fight. She had nothing left to lose after tonight and if she was in luck, her death would befall her much faster at the hands of her unseen pursuer than that of her known enemy.

Breaching the clearing, Hermione skidded to a halt at the sight of what surrounded her. Spiraling and overlapping from the edges of the forest until it collided with an altar of flames in the center, was a blending of the four seasons. Spring drifted into summer, which was engulfed by autumn, where inturn, it was ravished by winter, closing off the natural cycle of the year and of life. Fencing a fourth of the perimeter were vines of bright red strawberries, ripe for the picking. Following the succulent berries, were trees that hung with perfectly shaped and creviced peaches. Creeping out from the third quarter of the clearing, she identified small fig trees which collided with another crop of orchard trees, the final section heavy with pomegranates. A year's worth of fertile offerings, providing shelter from the harsh, barren world outside the circle.

Her grip tightened on her icy spear in spite of the cold burn that dug into her palm and approached the altar. The runes that were carved into the stone had a hypnotic lure as they seemed to shimmer and swirl, moving with a fluid grace not unlike the flames that danced above it. With each step - her mind tickling with forgotten knowledge - the runes appeared to shine brighter. She was nearly lost to their enchantment as she began to lower her weapon, the false lull they offered snapping as the clomping of hooves reached her ears once more.

Spinning around with the icicle leveled in front of her like a sword, she dug the toe of her trainer into the plush grass, her hands steady as the roaring of blood in her ears calmed, readying her for a fight. The black smoke greeted her first, its tendrils creeping into the clearing, ready to sweep her away to her death. She stood her ground though, inherently knowing that even if she tried to escape, the mystical clearing would bar her exit. It belonged to whoever chased her, answering to their whims. This beautiful place was to be her last stand and if she had to die somewhere, at least it would be here in what was almost paradise - hopefully with a fighting spirit they weren't expecting - and not in some dark, damp, cell after weeks of torture and abuse.

"Aphrodite's tits, witch; they failed to mention that you have the spirit of a warrior," a silken voice greeted as a magnificent thestral broke the clearing. "It'll serve you well with my son. He's a bit of a prickly arsehole, though I must admit he gets that from me."

Dismounting from his gentle but intimidating steed, he waved his hand and made her makeshift weapon vanish. With a second absent minded flick of his wrist, her clothes and hair were dry and her skin healed of abrasions.

"I'd offer you something to eat as you're clearly malnourished but the last time I fed a girl, my brother bit me in the arse over it and history painted me as some cradle robbing letch. But that's a story for another day."

As he walked past her, not even close enough to brush against her let alone do her harm though his easy display of magic had her suspecting he needn't be near her for that, Hermione was struck by his unconventional beauty. He was tall with a lean build and alabaster skin that had an otherworldly glow to it, a strong nose, plush, full lips with a crepe coloring, and thick, raven hair that seemed to absorb any light that dared to bounce off it. The wizard, man, whatever he was, had her memory tickling once again but try as she might, she couldn't grasp it.

"What are you doing to me?" she demanded.

"So I didn't choose wrong," he hummed, ascending on the altar, the flames roaring higher before reshaping into a black, glass throne. Scoffing at the royal presentation, he pulled up the legs of his utility trousers and took a seat on one of the altar steps instead. "Your bunny-like sprint through the forest had me concerned for a moment if I'm being honest. Compassion is one thing - something he is in desperate need of - but useless daintiness is something he isn't built for. He needs a partner as well as a lover. Someone who will help him carry the load; stand back to back and fight with him; remain faithful and steadfast even as the centuries carry on."

"What are you talking about and why can't I seem to remember anything?"

"That would be my… aura for lack of a better word. Mortal minds aren't built to withstand the presence of a major god in true form. The shielding can cause the wires in your brain to cross but don't worry, it'll right itself once I leave your presence. And after you share in my son's ascension, it won't affect you anymore."

"Who are you?" she asked though she was loath to do so, knowing she should have the answer.

"Hades, god of the Underworld at your service," he said, spreading his arms out as he bowed his head. "And I'm here to make you an offer I hope you can't refuse."

"And let me guess, all you want in return is my soul for all eternity?"

"Well not for me, but essentially yes. You see, just shy of seventeen years ago, my son - a demigod whose powers were bound by my brother while still in the womb as punishment for consorting with a mortal-"

"Has anyone ever told Zeus about glass houses," she muttered, making him snort.

"You have a sharp wit; I like that.

"Anyway to continue with my brief history, after a lifetime of fidelity to Persephone who proved to be as much of a philanderer as the rest of the immortals I call family, I stepped out and met Eileen Prince."

Like a slap to her brain, the memory she had still been struggling to unearth fell loose as she gasped, "Professor Snape is your son."

Smirking at her in a manner that suggested he was rather proud of her circumnavigating whatever blocks had been placed on her mind, Hades nodded, "Yes, Severus is my son. My only son, my only child in fact, and he's dying."

"He's a murderer."

Faster than her eyes could track, Hades was before her, his eyes burning white as the smooth tones of his voice echoed throughout the forest, her ears and nose bleeding under the intensity, "DO NOT SPEAK OF THINGS YOU DO NOT KNOW LITTLE GIRL!"

Falling to the ground as he backed away from her, Hermione panted under the cleaving agony in her brain as blood wept from her eyes. Curling in on herself as she tried to block out the screaming inside her, she rocked her body in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," Hades gently whispered, his hand resting on her back, the pain racing to his touch as it leached from her body. "I'm a tad sensitive about my son and let my anger over my failures as a parent get the better of me.

"I was barred from any form of contact with him - his very presence hidden from me - until his eighteenth birthday and by then I was too late. He had already been ensnared by my brother's latest mistake and the reason for his edict against contact with mortals. I helped to unweave what I could but by the time his twenty-first birthday came around he was already caught in two nets, little more than a slave.

"Full of anger, resentment, and hatred towards myself, my brother and his son, the world, he closed himself off to his ascension and now should I not intervene, he'll die in little more than four months time when he was meant to live for as long as the lore of myself and the Underworld prevailed against time."

"You said his ascension was to happen on his twenty-first birthday, seventeen years ago," Hermione slowly stated, a dozen questions swirling in her mind though only one thought shone clearly.

"Yes. If you're willing, I can send you back to just before the pinnacle of when his unbinding should have occurred had he not taken after me so fully and fallen for another, lesser woman, who like my wife had a fickle heart and even less loyal libido. There are-"

"Would I retain my memories? Everything that has happened in this timeline, would the knowledge remain?" she asked, gripping the front of his shirt in her eager and hopeful state. "Would I be free to intercede on events in my history so that they did not come to pass?"

Pulling her hands free, his own swallowed hers as his white eyes bored into hers and said, "I'm counting on you to convince my son to ascend and work with you to change the future. Zeus's son, Tom, Voldemort, whatever you wish to call him, cannot win. It will damn humanity beyond repair if he does. He can only be destroyed by an equal and with Artemis's daughter being born a generation too late, there is no other choice but Severus."

With her head spinning at all the devastation that wouldn't come to pass if she succeeded, Hermione vowed, "I'll do it."

"There will be stipulations you must adhere to," he warned.

"I don't care; I'll do it. Whatever you need, whatever I have to sacrifice, it's yours, his. I'll give it all freely."

"A life at his side? Ruling and living within the Underworld? No seasonal escape? A heart and body for him and him alone for all eternity?"

"What of him?" Thinking better of her question, she instantly dismissed, "Actually, it doesn't matter. I'll still do it."

Answering a question she thought wouldn't come to matter, Hades replied, "He's like me in many ways, both good and bad. His need for love and touch are a cavernous hole in his heart but once filled, it will garner his undying love and devotion.

"Severus is cantankerous and stubborn and has closed himself off behind seemingly impenetrable walls. It's all a front though to protect what jagged pieces remain of him after being used and discarded. He loves far too easily and quickly but it's endless and soul consuming and it'll be yours the moment you show even a sliver of your heart as being open to potentially loving him."

Batting away the romanticized depiction of Professor Snape and the way it made her heart give a silly, irrational flutter, she reaffirmed, "I'm ready; whatever is needed, I'll give it."

"Thank you, Hermione," he humbly murmured.

Curling his fingers through the air, fallen twigs and branches, wove themselves into a cornucopia that filled itself with a bounty of each season's offering. Handing it to her, Hades's already ethereal presence grew, lighting up the night as his clothes reformed into a thin, black toga.

"This is your last chance. There will be no seasonal escape that allows you to frolic and flit amongst the beds of others. If you accept, you will give my son everything."

Holding his gaze and with a steady hand, Hermione plucked one of peaches from the top and bit into its supple flesh, juice running down her chin as she sealed her new fate.