Hermione threw clothes into her backpack, her mind whirling furiously. Snape would probably be here any minute, he'd know this would be where she'd go first...
The trunk's too big, I can't take it. Harry can send my stuff on... I just have to get out of here. Dammit, I wish I had that map, didn't Ron have it last?
Hermione tried to reconstruct the Marauder's Map in her mind, seeking out the hidden exits. There was... no, that required a wand. Or... dammit, that required a wand!
Escape first, break the wand later, you moron...
Think, think, think!
Ron's voice: Damn, Harry, we can't use that one, we'll never be able to get in there...
The Slytherin exit. Of course.
Hermione shouldered her backpack, turning her ring to the left...
Snape's chambers were empty, his fire out, a lingering scent of him still in the air... spicy, exotic, alluring, dark, mysterious... like the man himself, with his...
And this is exactly why you're leaving! Get a move on!
Hermione pushed the door open, staring into a stone hallway, lined with green doors.
Oh, hell. I know it's one of the bedrooms, I just don't know which one...
Hermione squinched her eyes shut, trying to recall the Map. If that was Snape's quarters behind her, she'd be facing left on the map... which meant that it would be on her right...
She tried a door. Ech, Pansy Parkinson -- her disgusting fondness for pink apparently didn't stop at Yule Ball robes...
And the next. Yes! A stone door was set in the far wall. Hermione hurled herself into the room, shutting the door behind her...
And gasped.
This was the room she'd seen herself and Snape in, inside the Pensieve... deja vu was thudding all around her. The green curtains, the angle of the bed, the particular play of light on the wall from the little window in the exit door.
Why was Snape imagining shagging me in a student's room?
It hadn't even really crossed her mind when she'd been in Snape's chambers that they hadn't been the room she'd seen in the memory...
There's no time for this, Hermione...!
Hermione threw open the door to the outside and started running.
---
"Something from the cart, dear?"
Hermione looked up, her eyes suddenly swimming. "No thank you."
You're a Muggle now, Hermione. The cart has things like tea and sandwiches, not Chocolate Frogs. It's nothing to snivel over.
Except that she really felt like snivelling. Quite a bit, really.
Hi, Mum! Hi, Dad! Guess what? I've dropped out of school! And y'know what the lovely bit about that is? Nothing I've studied counts in the Muggle world! So basically, I haven't gone to school since I was eleven! Oh, I forgot to mention, I'm married to an utter bastard who's just a few years younger than you! Oh, and I'm on the run from him! And the Ministry of Magic! What's for supper?
So basically, she'd ruled out actually going home.
She'd thought about Lupin, longingly... but he'd just make her go back. Same with the Weasleys... just assuming for the moment that they would take her in, that Molly wasn't furious at her for 'rejecting' her son...
I wish Sirius were alive, Hermione thought bitterly. Sirius would hide me, wouldn't think twice about it, he'd bite Snape in the leg if he came after me... of course, if Sirius were alive, I could just have married him, that might have been fun... he could have taught me to be an Animagus...
Ron would hide her too, of course, but she didn't even know where he was...
Hermione sighed, twisting the edge of her jumper in her hands. She'd finally decided on her parents' summer cottage. Which meant this train to Liverpool, and then a ferry ride, and then another train ride down to Port Erin, and then a walk...
Hermione's back twinged painfully, and Hermione fought down a wave of panic.
Your back only hurts because you've been travelling for hours. You're a Muggle now, you're outside Ministry law...
Harry was going to be so upset...
Well, of course he's going to be upset. He thought he'd go into the final showdown flanked by friends, didn't he? And now you've just abandoned him... because Snape hurt your itty-bitty feewings. What did you expect, Granger, seriously? Snape to suddenly show up with roses, professing his undying love?
Hermione gulped. I expected what I saw...
Moron. Nothing in that vision was right. He was in a student's room, not his chambers, you weren't acting anything like yourself, hell, even Snape wasn't right, he looked to be about sixteen...
Hermione's knuckles whitened on the arms of the train seat.
That was why Snape had looked so much more attractive in the vision. He'd been about her age. She'd been so... well... hormonal... it hadn't really sunk in...
And Lily...
Potter will take care of her.
Your aim is lousy, Mudblood...
Hermione let out a little moan, comprehension sinking in. This time, putting the puzzle pieces together didn't feel quite as thrilling.
Especially since half the fun of figuring things out is telling Harry how clever you've been, right? And you can't tell Harry this, ever, he'd vomit all over you...
None of it made sense. The Marauders had hated Snape, hadn't they?
They're going to be so confused, Severus...
She should have gone to Lupin. Even if he'd kicked her out, she could have demanded some answers...
You do realize what you saw in that Pensieve, don't you, Hermione?
Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it...
You saw a memory Snape stuck your face on. Guess whose body he stuck your face on?
Oh, that's gross, that's gross, that's gross...
Ha, ha. You married an asshole because of a twenty-year-old memory of him making out with your best friend's mother...
Hermione buried her face in her hands and started to cry.
---
Hermione threw the keys on the countertop, the sharp clattering of metal jangling in her already overloaded mind.
That's what Muggle keys sound like, Hermione. That's how you open doors now. Welcome back to the world, Hermione... the boring old Muggle world. Welcome back to commercials for sanitary products and television programs where everybody shags everybody, where it matters who made your trainers and anyone you tell about the last seven years of your life will have you shipped off to the looney bin...
Hermione pressed a hand to her throbbing back, opening the refrigerator. Thank God, her parents hadn't completely cleaned it out when they left...
She opened a pop, dropping into her Dad's old easy chair, the worn-out leather sighing.
And what the hell are you going to do now, Hermione, eh? Are you going to get a job in a shop somewhere, ringing up people's groceries while Harry takes on Lord Voldemort by himself?
"Shut up," she whispered miserably, "Shut up..."
Hey, Hermione, Malfoy's voice whispered in her head. D'ya think you'll be able to feel it when Harry dies?
---
Her pyjamas clung to her, sweat beading on her forehead.
Go back, Hermione.
I won't. I can't. Snape... the Ministry... somebody has to make a stand, dammit...
It's not worth dying for...
Hermione fumbled in the medicine cabinet, bottles falling everywhere, reaching again for the Vicodin from that time her Dad broke his leg.
You've had two already. You're going to overdose, and it's not going to help.
It hurt. It hurt so badly. Oh dear God it hurt so much...
She stumbled down the hallway, pill in hand, heedless of the light fixtures exploding over her head, the rattling of the paintings on the wall. Glass crunched under her bare feet, but it couldn't even make a dent on the pain from inside...
Hermione slipped, her bloody feet giving out beneath her, the pill skidding down the carpet, out of reach. She groaned, trying to slide on her stomach towards it...
And a dark shadow fell across her...
"Never try to hide from a wizard in Avalon, Miss Granger."
Hermione rolled over, bleary eyes trying to focus on the dark shape above her... a dark shape bending down to pick her up...
"Snape?" she whispered.
"No, it's Santa Claus," Snape muttered, carrying her down the hall. "Only he's developed a bit of an attitude problem."
She clutched his robes in her hand. "It really p-pisses me off how happy I am to see you."
"That might be the first sensible thing you've said all day."
Snape kicked open the bedroom door, laying her down on the bed and lying beside her. Hermione let out a little squeak.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Granger." Snape's voice purred through her ear, the heat of his breath on her neck. "I'm trying to help. How bad is it?"
Somehow, the kindness just made it worse, made it okay for tears to roll down her face... "P-pretty bad."
"Don't lie to me, it's useless..." Hermione stiffened, and Snape softened his voice. "Granger... relax. It's just going to get worse if you don't... here..."
Snape reached out, gently turning her onto her side, taking her hip in his hand and sliding it back to rest snugly against his own. His knee nudged between her thighs, spreading them wide enough for his leg to slide between hers. "Is that any better?"
"A-A little." She still couldn't stop shaking...
"I won't know what I need to do if you won't tell me how bad it is..." One warm palm curved around her upper arm, sliding down the length of it. "How bad is it?"
"I've n-never hurt this b-badly. I don't... I don't have a f-frame of r-reference..."
"This isn't helping?" God, he was so close to her, his lips so close to her ear...
"It is... it is. Just... just not that much..."
Snape sighed, more warmth spreading over the back of her neck. "Never let it get this bad again, Granger. I don't want to have to..."
I know what you don't want to do, Snape. You've made that quite clear.
"Here." Snape dipped his head, pressing his lips against the nape of her neck, his palm sliding warm through her shirt against the muscles of her back. "Better?"
Hermione shook her head, tears in her eyes.
"All right." Snape's voice murmured; Hermione rather thought he was talking to himself. "I suppose..."
He sat up from her, fabric rustling, and his shirt soared over Hermione to land on the floor next to the bed. "Roll over a little, Granger."
His fingers undid her buttons, his eyes searching her face anxiously. Hermione tried to control her breath, tried not to show the effect he was having. He lifted her, pulling the shirt off of her. It joined his on the floor, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against the warmth of his chest.
The knot in her stomach loosened, the warmth of his bare skin like a balm for pain everywhere he touched her, heat radiating through her, uncramping her muscles.
"Better?"
"Yes. A lot."
"Still hurts?"
Hermione nodded, and Snape bent to her again, pressing kisses on the back of her neck, his fingers trailing down her arms, each kiss eroding the pain away, chipping away at the pulsing red within her.
"That helps," she gasped. "That really helps... but it's..."
"Not enough?"
She nodded.
"Do you... do you want... do you need me to... to really kiss you?" Snape asked, his voice hesitant.
He's a bastard! He's an asshole! He's the reason you came all this way! You've been trying to get away from him, what the hell are you doing?
"Please," Hermione whispered, rolling over within his arms to face him.
Snape reached out, cupping her chin, bringing his lips down to brush hers. Hermione moaned against his mouth as relief flooded through her, and she pressed her lips against his.
Oh my God, this is nothing like kissing Harry, nothing like kissing Harry at all...
Snape deepened the kiss, his mouth opening, his lower lip caressing hers, a rhythm building between them, thought burning away. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, pulling him towards her, her knee nudging his legs apart as his had, letting her thigh slide between his.
The pain was quieting, her body returning to her. She slid her fingers along the planes of his back, feeling the muscles beneath, the velvety heat and softness of his skin, tugging him closer and closer as their mouths opened, moving, his tongue gently pressing against, sliding over hers, a haze of heat growing around them.
This is insane, this is crazy, this feels... this feels...
The pain was almost gone now, new sensations rising to take its place, warmth flooding through her. A pleasant shiver quickened in her stomach as Snape sighed against her lips, and she raised her fingers to trace his jawline, curl around the edges of his ear, trail down his neck. She felt a stirring at the top of her thigh and instinctively pressed herself against it, a low noise issuing from Snape's throat, and she let her fingers play lightly against his collarbone, slide down through the hair at his chest, making lazy spirals with her fingertips...
"Granger," Snape growled. "Are you better?"
"Yes," she whispered, lowering her head to press kisses on his neck, feeling his pulse pound against her lips, reveling in it, breathing him in...
"All the way better?"
"I feel wonderful," she said honestly.
Snape stiffened instantly, pulling away from her, his legs moving to pop out her own from in between them, plucking her hands off his body. "Well, then. Let's see that this doesn't happen again."
Hermione was suddenly as cold as she'd been hot, his absence like a vacuum within her. "I don't... I don't want to stop, please..."
She reached for him, and he stopped her hand. "Miss Granger, if you were were not Bound, you'd be screaming in revulsion right now. You'd be running away from me, not begging for more."
"I wasn't... I wasn't begging, I don't beg..."
Especially not you, you great overgrown bat...
"Miss Granger. I have too much respect for you to watch you do this, and too much respect for myself to take advantage. You will start sleeping in my chambers at night; this will not happen again."
"Never?"
The word had left her lips before she had time to stop it, and her cheeks flushed at the plaintive sound of it.
Here it comes. He's going to mock me into the ground...
Snape merely shook his head sorrowfully. "Miss Granger... you're under mind-control."
"But... I want..."
"Do you know what I want?" Snape whispered, turning Hermione's face towards him. "I want to be there the day you are UnBound, Miss Granger. And when that curse, that fucking Ministry-applied Imperius Curse, when that fog fades from your eyes... I don't..."
Snape swallowed heavily. "I don't want you to hate me."
What? Hermione stared at Snape, jaw unhinged.
I HATE YOU!
You aim is lousy, Mudblood...
"I want us to be able to raise our children amicably, to let them see that their parents are friends, to let them know they are welcomed and loved by both of us. I don't want them to ever go through what I went through. I want them happy, I want them raised by people who share a mutual respect, a mutual understanding."
Snape breathed deeply, his eyes locked on Hermione's. "And you understand that if I took you now... no matter how much the Ministry has made you think you want it... you'd hate me for it later, you'd lie your bed at night and remember it and shudder, it would poison every inch of our future, our children's future."
He reached up, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "I won't do that to you. I won't do that to them. I won't do it to me."
Hermione gaped, unable to do anything but stare as Snape arched over her, reaching for their shirts on the floor. He dropped hers on top of her, shrugging into his own as he rolled off the bed.
"B-but..."
"Yes?"
"Mutual... respect... but you... you were such an ass to me today!"
Professor Snape leaned against the poster of the bed, buttoning his cuffs. "That's right, Miss Granger. I was an ass. I generally am an ass; I'm sure you've noticed."
Hermione tried to pay attention, but there was something about his elegant posture, the motion of his arms as those long fingers worked at his wrist...
"You, on the other hand, are generally pleasant... up until, I believe, the point that you found out you were being made to do something completely odious to you, that you had no freedom to stop... at which point you began to do a rather credible impersonation of me. I hear you terrified my Potions class?"
Hermione hung her head slightly.
"If this law has the power to rob you of your charm, you can rather imagine the effect it had on me. Understand this, Miss Granger... while I may not be Bound, I have lost my freedom as surely as you have. It was a rather unpleasant shock."
"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. "I should have talked to you first..."
Snape sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "I've worked hard to keep you terrified of me, Miss Granger. Much of that fault lies with me."
"But you were just... so nice to me..."
"Miss Granger, I'm a misogynist bastard. I am not, however, enough of one to let a child die because I am piqued."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "A child?"
"I realize you're above the age of consent, Miss Granger. However, the fact remains that I am old enough to be your father."
"My father's twenty years older than you!"
"Miss Granger, I find it very difficult to have a serious debate about your womanhood when you're clad in fluffy sheep pyjamas."
Hermione looked down, blushing.
"Also... your feet are bleeding..." Snape tossed something onto the bed.
Hermione picked it up. "My wand? B-but... I broke this..."
"And I had it repaired. Heal your feet, Miss Granger, we need to leave. It's not safe for you here."
"But... I'm a Muggle now..."
Snape chuckled. "You are hardly a Muggle, Miss Granger."
"I broke my wand."
"A gesture, you will find, that is entirely symbolic. You've been a witch since your birth; you'll be a witch until your death. Which, I might add, will be in roughly two days, if you continue to run off every time I'm less than pleasant."
"How... how did you know where to find me?"
"As I said before, Miss Granger... never try to hide from a wizard in Avalon."
"I'm not in Avalon."
Snape's eyes danced. "Ellan Vaneen Veg Veen... don't tell me you never noticed. Good old Mannannan-Beg Mac-y-Leir? Myrddin? Merlin? Thought you'd have worked it out by now..."
"Ellan Vaneen..." Hermione whispered.
"Indeed. This place has a certain... amplifying effect." Snape's eyes were dancing again, one eyebrow arched... like he was about to show her a very exciting toy. "Heal your feet."
"I suck at healing charms, I..."
Hermione flicked her wand, whispering the words, shocked to feel power whoosh through her, nearly knocking her off the bed.
She wiggled her toes. There was no sign they'd ever been injured.
"Fix that lamp," Snape purred.
"Reparo," Hermione muttered... and the lamp sprung together instantly, with the same heady rush of power.
"Now," Snape said, "Come see what you did to this house."
Hermione padded across the floor, noticing the glass still on it. "Scour-"
"Not yet!" Snape commanded. "Come see."
Hermione peeked into the hallway and gasped. Every light fixture was shattered; the paintings had fallen off the walls; dust still streamed from the ceilings.
"My parents are going to kill me," Hermione breathed.
"Miss Granger," Snape breathed into her ear. "That is what you did without a wand, just by the force of your own pain. Never call yourself a Muggle again."
Hermione closed her eyes, entranced by the sound of his voice, the heat of him behind her... strange, how similar the feelings were, the surge of magical power, the surge of desire...
"Miss Granger?"
"Scourgify."
Another rush, this one cool, like a breeze blowing through her... and the hallway righted itself.
"That's how I found you, Miss Granger... you were shining like a beacon. Which means that I'm not the only one you were shining for... and we need to leave. Gather your things."
"What do you mean? I'm... I'm... I'm so confused... about everything..."
"Now is not the time or place. Gather your things." Snape began striding through the halls, repairing damage.
"I don't... I don't want to go back yet, I..."
"Miss Granger? Come here."
Hermione found herself unwillingly taking a step towards Snape.
"Stop. As you can see, the amplification affects your Binding. I'd imagine you only have a few hours before it takes you over again. You will come back to Hogwarts."
"Then you can make me do whatever you want, right?" Hermione snapped. "Make me."
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Miss Granger... I am trying to hold my temper. I am also trying to treat you with a respect you do not currently deserve, a respect which, I must point out, you have not shown to me. Please come back to Hogwarts."
"You've never respected me, Snape."
"Have you ever been under the Imperius Curse?" Snape snapped.
"No."
"I have. It gives me certain distaste for forcing people to do things against their will. Believe it or not, Miss Granger, I have been respectful. I asked you why you ruined my life; I could have ripped all the answers I sought out of your brain with a look. I could force you to come back to Hogwarts; I could have forced you not to leave. I am trying to honor the free will you have left, which I think should be obvious, since the only reason you have the will to defy me is because I broke Ministry Laws to give it to you!"
Hermione burst into tears.
"Why must you do that every time I talk to you?" Snape demanded.
"Because you're mean! You call me stupid! You're always yelling!"
Snape loomed over her. "And is this a new development?"
"No..."
"Then I'd say you've gotten exactly the husband you signed up for, Miss Granger."
Snape crossed to the fireplace, pulling a bag of Floo Powder out of his robes. "Kindly return to my chambers sometime before you die, Miss Granger... and do remember that I tried to spare you what you're about to experience."
"I'll come," Hermione said quietly. "On one condition..."
"Miss Granger, you realize that I cannot change my personality..."
"You have to start calling me Hermione."
Snape stopped in his tracks; the eyebrow soared, and a wicked little grin crossed his face.
Oh, wow... that looks good on him...
"Very well," Snape purred... "Hermione."
Ohhhhhhhhhh. Maybe that wasn't the best idea.
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