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Amphitrite	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
- 17
As darkness fell, everyone gravitated toward the bonfire on the
beach.� Though it had taken nearly two
hours of tedious work, feeding the memories from the pensieve into the wards
had worked.� The Babel spell had absorbed it, worked its
peculiar magic, and now, when Lilith opened her mouth, she was
comprehensible.� This was to be her first
dinner with them where she could speak and understand, and no one on site was
about to miss it.

�� They are going to have a lot of
questions, aren�t they?� she asked Remus as the two of them walked toward the
bright fire.

�� Probably,� he shrugged.� �But you have just as many questions for us,
right?�

�� The girl nodded.� �I can�t believe how long it�s been.� Everything must be different now��

�� You are taking it better than I
would,� he remarked.� �Although by now I
ought to be used to such things.�

�� Lilith frowned, a concerned look
invading her youthful face.� Noticing the
change in her demeanor, Remus felt a spasm of pain.� He knew what she was thinking, how she was
feeling � adolescence was bad enough, but to crown it with lycanthropy and
the fact that she had missed a millennia and everyone she had ever known or
loved was long, long gone�and she was about to face dozens of foreign people
who would ask her questions, and then, worse, inform her of all the things that
had happened and not happened while she was asleep�

He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and spoke, his tone soft and
earnest,� �Lilith, I know that I can�t
comprehend what is was like to have lived back when you were put in that
display case�but I can tell you that it is better now.� It is not great, but it�s so, so much
better.�

She blinked back tears.� �I hope
so.�

Severus was as confused as ever by Hermione�s behavior.� He thought because of the strange quarrel
earlier that she would avoid him for some time, as Dawn had with Lucius, but
that did not seem to be the case.�
Granted, he had not insulted her, but she was acting as if nothing had
happened at all.� She sat close to him,
unashamed, clearly displaying that they were more.

He was not as comfortable with the display as she was.� It was not that he was embarrassed to be seen
with her, for people to know that they were�more�but he had always been
a fairly private person and it made him downright squeamish to have Hermione�s
hand casually resting on his thigh in front of the entire dig team.� He didn�t know how to make her understand
without hurting her feelings; he knew women were notoriously touchy about
things like that and he was not about to burn his already shaky bridges.

He shifted under the guise of getting more comfortable, hoping that the
movement would propel her to move her hand.�
It did; she was intensely focused on the give and take questioning
between Lilith and Cyrus and when he moved all she did was give him a quick,
distracted smile and reposition herself accordingly.

Severus was only relieved for a moment.�
Then he felt revolted at himself that he could not even keep his
attention on the more important matters that were unfolding beside the
bonfire.� For God�s sake, the girl had
known the man who had created a potion to neutralize all magical powers!

He thought perhaps he was purposely ignoring that.� It was terrifying to think it could even be
done, accidentally or not.� The
consequences if it got into the wrong hands�it made him dizzy with unease.� However, at the same time there was the
incredible, unbearable compulsion to know how he had done it.� Severus was a Potions Master; he loved what
he did, and deep down he knew he would never be able to resist hearing the
formula.

Cyrus and Leo evidently had not told anyone else about the memory
they�d recovered from the pensieve, and they did not mention it while they
questioned Lilith.� Severus thought this
was for the best.� They would have to
approach her on her own, quietly, and hope that she would trust them enough to
give up the formula.

He was very sure that this was what Hephaestus had been referring
to.� This was monumental, and it could
certainly start a war.� Judging by what
Lilith was saying, it clearly had.� There
was no Voldemort anymore, but evil did not slumber; it was always active,
always searching for a cause, a mission, and those who were foolish enough to
be taken in by it�

The logical part of his mind put on the brakes.� He had told himself probably a hundred times
that there was no guarantee that the formula was relevant anymore.� Leo had been right when he said things were
different back then.� In two thousand
years, plants, animals, and entire groups of things could have disappeared off
the face of the earth.� There could be
ingredients in the potion that no one even knew existed, and if that was the
case, how the hell were they supposed to find them?� It could turn out to be nothing more than a
frustrating wild goose chase.� He was not
going to get himself worked up for nothing.

But why were the gods so insistent if it was nothing?� That was what plagued him.� Warnings were not given for nothing.

�Severus?�� Hermione�s voice was
an unexpected, if pleasant interruption to his thoughts.

�Hm?� he blinked, turning to her.�
He noticed that the group at the bonfire was thinning.� Lilith was already walking away with Lupin.

�They�re done,� she said, contemplating him.� �What are you thinking about?�

He returned her look; her eyes were gentle but curious, her pupils
dilated from the pale light of the fire.�
If he was more paranoid, he might think that she knew he was keeping
something from her, but he chose not to go down that path.� He would tell her about what he had seen in
the pensieve when they returned to the privacy of their own cabin.

Listen to him�their cabin.�
It was amazing how quickly they had become a unit in his mind.� He had never, ever allowed himself to make
that transition so quickly before.� In
fact, he had only allowed himself to become romantically entangled once or
twice before, and with far more resistance than he was displaying now.� But it felt right, and the dark times where
attachment would have been suicide were gone.�
It was an adjustment, but an agreeable one.

�Just�� he replied softly, �just what all of this means.�

She nodded, her curls swaying.�
�It�s really quite amazing.�

He squeezed her hand.� �Let�s
go.� I�m tired.�

Hermione nodded again, taking a breath before leaning forward and
climbing to her feet.� She probably
thought he was tired from helping to alter the Babel spell; it was true, that had been
tiring work, but in reality he was exhausted from thinking.� He could not shake the image of the chess
board from his mind.� When he closed his
eyes he saw Hephaestus, the wiry, odd-looking man contemplating his move
against a faceless opponent.� And as
desperately as he wanted to know the formula of that potion, he also
desperately wanted to go back to not knowing it had ever existed at all.� The conflict inside him made his stomach
churn.

She was looking at him expectantly.�
Smiling, she offered a hand.� He
took it but did most of the work himself, rising beside her.� Once he was on his feet she made to let go,
but he held on to her.� Her hand was
small and warm and did not cling too tightly; he liked that about her.

Hermione smiled.� Wordlessly,
they moved toward the cabins, and Severus found that he suddenly did not care
who was watching.

�Is that little girl really the werewolf that wanted to eat us?�
Nick asked, fiddling with a seashell.�

�Yes,� Dawn answered.� �She can�t
help what she did during her transformation.�

�This still blows my mind,� Nick continued.� �That there are werewolves at all, not to
mention one who�s been in stasis for two thousand years.�

�Stranger things have happened,� she murmured.� In the wizarding world, that statement would
always be true.

�All that stuff about that Voldemort guy,� Anatole spoke up, �how did
it all happen without us noticing?�

�You did notice.� You just thought
it was other things � terrorists, natural disasters, whatever.�

�Give me an example,� Anatole said.�
�I want to know something he did that we would have heard about.�

�The massacre at Southampton.�

�Voldemort did that?� Anatole asked.

Dawn sighed, annoyance flashing on her face.� �I know it doesn�t mean much to you, but
please don�t use his name so lightly.� He
was evil.�

�Right.� Sorry.� He did that?�

�Yes.� Your law enforcement ruled
it some kind of horrible accident, but it wasn�t.� All those people were killed at his order.�

�Why?� Anatole asked, frowning.

�One of his plans was derailed by the Ministry of Magic.� He was angry.�
He couldn�t be bested by us, and he took it out on Muggles.�

�What did he have against us?�
It�s not like we can do anything,� Nick snorted.

Dawn gave him a thoughtful look.�
�Of course you can do things.�
Magic isn�t the only way to fight.�
He knew that.�

�We wouldn�t have had a chance,� Nick maintained.

Dawn shrugged.� �In truth, he
thought Muggles were a lesser species.�
He thought you all should have been forced into subjugation and
slavery.�

�Could he have done that?� Anatole asked, horrified.

�In Europe, certainly.� The whole world?� I don�t know.�

Nick and Anatole were silent, absorbing her words.� Then Anatole spoke up quietly, his voice full
of hesitation.

�They say�they say that Snape worked for Vol�for him.�

Dawn�s eyes were full of appraisal.�
�Yes.� He did.� So did Lucius.�

Anatole had the grace to look uncomfortable.� �Then�shouldn�t they�be in prison, or
something?� If this guy was as bad as you
say he was�what kinds of things did they do for him?�

Dawn�s jaw tightened.� �That�s
for them to live with.�

Anatole did not look convinced.

�People make mistakes,� Nick said quietly.� Dawn�s glance shifted from Anatole to Nick
and stayed for a moment; she hadn�t expected to have Nick as an ally.

�Yeah, but most mistakes don�t kill people,� Anatole
retorted.� It suddenly became clear to
Dawn.� He was finding reasons to hate
Snape.� He was finding reasons to compete
with him. �Well, she could not stop him
from doing that, but she could stick up for the man.

�Snape was a double agent.� He
worked for He Who Shall Not be Named so that his enemies could be
informed.� It wasn�t easy, and I�m sure
he didn�t like many of the things he had to do.�
Not many men could do it.�

�And Lucius?� Was he a spy, too?�
Nick asked.

Dawn shook her head.� �No.� Lucius...I don�t know.� But the important part is that he came
around.� He figured out what was
important.�

�You�re too forgiving,� Anatole grumbled.

�You have to understand,� Dawn said.�
�The wizarding world has had very little peace for the last fifty
years.� This wasn�t just one war.� Before Lucius was even born, his grandfather
chose a side, and his father, and by the time Lucius came along�he didn�t have
a choice anymore.� He was raised to
believe the filth that he propogated.�
It isn�t easy to break that cycle.��

Anatole said nothing, but his face was not convinced.� A sudden look of ire flashed in Dawn�s eyes.

�Have you ever known war?� she demanded.

�Well, no�not directly.�

�Then you can�t understand.�� She
stood up and turned her back without another word.� Anatole watched her as she moved away,
frowning.

�No wonder they�re so antsy about this thing with the werewolf,� Nick
said after a few moments had passed.�
�Can you imagine it?� What must
war be like for them?� Just�speak a few
words and�someone dies��

�It�s not much different,� Anatole said darkly.� �All we�ve got to do is pull a trigger...at
least they have to think about the words before they say them.��

�How�s that dragon coming along?� Hermione asked over his shoulder.

�All right,� he murmured.� �The
buildup is thick here�� he pointed at the area he�d been picking at for a few
minutes.

�Lovely,� she said.� Her arms
wrapped around him from behind and her face came to rest against his neck.� �Why don�t you come to bed?�

Severus couldn�t help but shut his eyes.� Her breath against his neck was
maddening.� What lamentable control he
had�

�I wanted to tell you something,� he forced himself to say.

�Is it important?�� Her hands
were undoing the buttons of his shirt.

��Yes.�

�Is it so important that it can�t wait a few hours?�

�What are you intending for me to do for the next few hours?�

She said nothing, but her hands continued to work on his shirt.� Her warm fingers trailed over his chest.� He cringed.�
If he told her now, she would be deterred from this ill-defined path of
intimacy.� Intellectual curiosity would
take over and he would spend the night with her chattering about potion formulations.� Normally, that would be just as sexy to him
as her hands burning into his skin, but not today.� That discussion could wait for tomorrow.� It wasn�t as if he actually knew the
formulation, anyway.� Again, he told
himself that it could all be bunk; there was no guarantee that the girl even
remembered, or that the formula could be recreated after so many millennia.

No, today he chose her.� Today he
chose Hermione Granger.� How strange�

But the light pressure of her hands was not strange.� Her fingers felt right.� His conscience was not screaming as much as
it should have been.� Yet he felt miles
away from the man who had first met this girl, and really, he was��

Well, he would have to be, because he most certainly would have been
arrested if he�d kissed her back then.�
He did not care to think about whether he had ever wanted to.� That was a place that was forbidden to
go�

She climbed carefully onto his lap.�
She was more graceful than she looked.�
This Hermione girl was full of surprises.� He let his hands meander up the back of her
tank top.� He had noticed before that her
skin was soft and warm and smooth but it was good to notice it again.

Her lips descended on his.� Oh,
what power was this?� She unleashed an
almost melancholy need in him.� Maybe
melancholy wasn�t the right word.� Maybe
it only felt that way because he had forbidden himself to feel these kinds of
things for so long.� What was the point
of that now?

Absolutely nothing.� The answer
was not to deny himself.� Lucius had
figured it out; the answer was to do as he pleased because it pleased him
� not anyone else.� It was time to do
what was best for him, consequences be damned.�
And right now, what was best for him was�

He pushed the flimsy tank top up and parted from her lips just long
enough to toss it aside.� He felt her
smile against his mouth.� That was less
interesting than the feel of her skin along his; she had pushed his shirt off
his shoulders and the long expanse of her torso was more than agreeable when
pressed against him.� She chuckled in his
ear when his hand went to work on the closure of her bra.� This was a skill that, once learned, was
never forgotten.

Her bra (blue � his mind catalogued that, however briefly) soon met the
fate of her shirt.� He looked at
her.� Her hair was frizzy but controlled,
a few curls spilling over her shoulders.�
Her cheeks flushed, her lips pink and inviting, and those aforementioned
shoulders were delicate and strong at the same time.� He had always had a particular weakness for a
woman�s d�colletage and Hermione Granger�s did not disappoint.� Her skin was perfect, unmarred, slightly
tanned and glowing with youth.� Her
collarbones nestled contently beneath the skin, not too sunken and not too
prominent.� He wanted very much to kiss
them.� And it went without saying that
her breasts were wonderful.� They were
full and perky, the left one slightly larger than the right, with rosy nipples
that were peaking as he perused her.

Her fingers beneath his chin raised his eyes back up to hers.� Her face was serene but there was a crease of
doubt between her eyebrows.

�What is it?� he asked.

�I expected you to brush me off,� she confessed with a sheepish smile.

He raised his eyebrows.� �I am
many things, Hermione�but I�m not crazy.��
And then, giving in to pure instinct, he wrapped his arms around her and
hoisted her from the chair.� The only
sound was her laughter as he deposited her on the bed.

I am not sure if I�m awake or dreaming.�
It could be either with Apollo swimming in my eyes.� His face is impassive, but I might detect a
bit of remorse in his chiseled features.

�Remember what the boy said, Lucius,� he states.� �Tell them nothing.�

�That�s all you have to say to me?��
My voice is too clear for me to be awake.� I know there were too many blows to the face
for coherent speech.� �You knew they
would be there.� You knew they would be
looking for me.�

�Not just for you, Lucius.� As of
two days ago, they have a list of everyone who is on your dig.� You�re all untraceable at the site itself,
but once you leave��

�Why would they want to track us?�

�I can�t say anymore, Lucius.�

�How am I supposed to know what you want me to do if you tell me
nothing?�

�You know what to do.�

I think back to the boy.� The
expression on his face�

�These people are going to kill me.�

This evokes a reaction out of him.�
He unfolds his arms and shifts, looking a bit uncomfortable.� �They might, Lucius.� That is up to you�but if it hadn�t been you,
it could have been anyone on your dig team.�
Your son.� Your girlfriend.� The others��

�And that�s supposed to make me feel better about these people killing
me?�

He frowns.� �I thought it
might.� I guess I was wrong.�

I say nothing.� I would rather it
was me, but only if the alternative was Draco, Dawn, or Severus.� Perhaps the Granger girl is on that list, as
well, but only because I know that Severus has fallen for her.� Anyone else I would not shed a tear
over.� Is that so wrong?� Any man would rather that misfortune befell
someone else.

Apollo�s frown has deepened.� He
looks genuinely conflicted now.� �This is
becoming�� he pauses, sighing, �complicated.�

I open my metaphorical mouth to say something, but he is already
gone.� And, heaven help me, my eyes are
not so dim anymore.� I�m returning to
reality; the reality of greed and madness and pain.� It is home, though, and I�m not afraid.� These people, no matter who they are, will
never be Voldemort.� He still stands unmatched
as the most terrifying thing I ever had to face�except, of course, for
myself.�

Mehmet jumped as a hand descended on his shoulder.� Thankfully, it was only Cecil.

�Weird day, eh?� he asked amicably.

Mehmet nodded weakly.� Weird was
not the word for it.� Downright surreal
was more accurate.

�What happened to that Lucius fellow?� Cecil asked, orange light
flaring briefly in the darkness as he lit a cigarette.

�I put him in a hotel for tonight.�
He�ll take a boat back to Greece tomorrow,� Mehmet lied.� It was the easiest thing to do right
now.� He knew that wherever he was,
Lucius Malfoy was not in any hotel.

�There were some men here,� Cecil said.�
�From the military.� They were
looking for him.�

Mehmet turned his head quickly and got a face full of smoke.� Ignoring it, he asked, �They were looking for
Lucius?�

Cecil nodded, careful to blow his smoke the other way.

�What did you tell them?�

�That he�d been here, but was gone.�

Mehmet frowned.� �Anything else?�

�That he mentioned he was trying to get to Greece.�

Mehmet shifted uneasily.� He
could see where this was going.� �Just Greece?� You didn�t mention where, specifically?�

Cecil�s blue eyes fixed on him and registered his discomfort.� �You knew him,� the Englishman said.� �That wasn�t the first time you�d met him.�

�It was the first time I met him, but I know who he is.�

�Is he in some kind of trouble?�

Mehmet took the cigarette from Cecil�s hand and breathed deeply.� At least if he was going to kill himself with
this habit, he had the sense to smoke good Turkish cigarettes.

�Where were you all day?� You
just�disappeared.�

�Taking care of some things.�� He
handed the cigarette back to his comrade.�
�Cecil, did you tell them that Lucius was trying to get to Preveza?�

�Yes.� Is that bad?�

Mehmet instantly wished he had not surrendered the cigarette.� �Yes.�
Yes it is.�� A moment later he
turned to walk away.

�Hey!�� Cecil�s footsteps echoed
through the vast ruin.� �Where are you
going?�

�To take care of some more things,� he replied over his shoulder.

�Then I�m coming with you!�

Mehmet turned and Cecil nearly ran into him.� �No.�
That�s not possible.�

�I can�t claim to understand what�s going on, but if men with guns are
involved you can�t do it on your own.�

Mehmet smiled and squeezed Cecil�s shoulder.� He really was a good man.� And maybe�if muggles were involved in this
bizarre attack and Malfoy�s abduction, maybe it would be good to have one in
his corner.� This was more than just a
skirmish in the wizarding world.� He took
a breath and nodded.� �All right.� But Cecil�it�s not the men with guns I�m
worried about.��

When I wake there is one person in the room with me.� I have been tortured before but never like
this.� Never alone in a dark room.� I am not sure if this is better or worse;
with a crowd there can be fear and sympathy.�
On my own�well, there is no one else here to see what he does to
me.� A man is often most brutal when he
knows no one is watching.

He is tall and stocky.� He looks
a little bit like Joeri, the Russian wizard from the dig, but perhaps that
comparison comes from the fact that he is smoking a cigar.� His hair is brown, cropped close to his skull
to control the curl, and his eyes are green.

�Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy.�

I try to raise an eyebrow at him and a shot of pain cuts through
me.� It is obvious that my face is in bad
shape.� I settle for expressing my
disdain around a swollen lip.� �There�s
no need for formalities.�

�Perhaps not.�� He stands and
stalks toward me.� He walks a slow circle
around me, the smoke from his cigar forming a dense curtain around us.� �But I like to be civilized.�

I snort and fidget with my bonds.�
They are tight, not a millimeter of give.

�I am Prometheus.� Prometheus L.
Bound.�

I can�t help myself.� I
laugh.� �Going to bring fire to the
people?�

�In a manner of speaking, Mr. Malfoy.�
I�m going to bring fire to the people who deserve it.�

A chill settles in my stomach.� I
don�t need to hear the rhetoric, but I ask anyway, �Who deserves it?�

He drags his chair across the floor and sets it down right in front of
me.� He sits heavily, crossing his
legs.� �You have two options, Mr. Malfoy.� You can tell me what I want to know and be on
your way�or you can be difficult.�

�Surely, Mr. Bound, you know that if it is not to his benefit, a Malfoy
is notoriously difficult.�

He moves quickly.� The still-lit
cigar is a centimeter from my eye.� The
heat and the smoke make it tear, but I don�t close it.� I know better than to show fear.� �Your benefit, Mr. Malfoy, is that I might
let you live.�

I stare him down.� It�s something
I�m exceptionally good at, even in this position.� After two long minutes he growls and looks
away.� But I�ve made him angry.� He stubs the cigar out on my arm.

It hurts.� It hurts a lot.� I smell my own skin burning.� Sounds of pain build in my throat but there
is no chance of them escaping.� It will
take a lot more than one nickel-sized burn to draw them out.

�Good day, Mr. Malfoy.�

So this is what it felt like to be with a woman half his age.� Lucius had sung the praises of such things,
and logic dictated that it was good, but oh lord was it good.� It was possible that her age had nothing to
do with it, though.� No�seldom had any
woman turned him on as much as she did.

Hermione was draped on top of him, divested of everything except her
underwear.� He was in a similar
state.� How had he forgotten this?� How had he conveniently squelched the need
for skin on skin?

Christ, her mouth.� He had not
kissed anyone like this since he was�nineteen?�
Twenty?� Young and stupid, for
sure.� He was no longer young, but he
could still be stupid.

The tip of her tongue traced his upper lip.� Severus closed his eyes and breathed.� There was something about this place.� Lucius had mentioned that it made him feel
like a horny teenager � one of many unnecessary pieces of information his
friend chose to impart on him.� Damn it,
why did he keep thinking about Lucius?�
He pushed the blond out of his mind.�
Missing or not, Lucius was not going to intrude on this.� There were limits.

He turned, trapping her beneath him.�
At last he attacked her neck and collarbones.� Her skin was soft and smooth beneath his
lips, and when he flickered his tongue over her pulse there was a faint tinge
of salt.� He tasted her heartbeat,
gauging its rapid flutter.� As strange as
it seemed, he knew her blood pounded for want of him.� That was about the most erotic thing he�d
ever experienced.

Blood rushed to long-neglected places.�
There was no way to hide it.�
Especially not when she wrapped her long legs around him.

�Am I hurting you?� she asked a moment later.

�What?�� Of all the ridiculous
questions!� �No.�

She laughed.� �You have this look
on your face. �I thought maybe
I�compressed some tender areas.�

He shook his head.� �Compress all
you want.�� He returned to her neck.� She smelled good and was evidently enjoying
his attention.� He could feel her breath
coming faster.� Severus was sure his was,
too.

He moved on.� Her nipples were
hard and puckered now, a little darker in color than before.� He touched his tongue to one, probing its
persistent peak.� An intake of her breath
signaled that this was a good thing.� He
sealed his lips around it, his tongue against the tip, and sucked gently.� This, too, was good; she let out a soft
half-sigh, half-moan.� He was looking
forward to hearing a lot more of those.

After a few moments, a sharp tug at his hair pulled him out of his
breast-induced reverie.

�Don�t you give me the eyebrow,� she said, grinning.

�I will if I want to.�� He ran
his hands down her sides, appreciating the curve of her hip.

She fidgeted under his fingers.�
�Severus��

�Hm?�

�Can we�maybe�save the foreplay for next time?�� Her cheeks colored most endearingly.

He was momentarily taken aback.�
What woman vetoed foreplay?� Well,
he supposed that the last week had been a sort of prolonged foreplay.� Clearly enough testosterone had collected in
him to enable this recklessness.� It must
be the same for her.� She wanted her
payoff.

Well, far be it from him to deny her � or himself.

�That�s�er�fine with me,� he said, trying not to sound too eager.

�Good.�� She reached down and
tugged at his boxers.

He couldn�t help himself.�
�Straightforward thing, aren�t you?�

She retaliated by wrapping her hand around his arousal.� �I�d watch what I said if I were you,� she
smirked.� �After all, you did tell me I
could compress all I wanted.�

�Oh,� he breathed as her hand moved, stroking his hot length.� �And I meant it.�

She raised herself on one elbow to kiss him, her hand continuing its
slow torture.� He let his tongue slide
against hers for a minute and then pulled away, inhaling and mustering his
control.

�I thought we were--� he winced as her fingers traced the head of his
organ, �forgoing this.�

She smiled.� �It�s just�put it
this way.� I�m not disappointed with the
contents of your shorts.�

�Eloquent as always.�

She quirked an eyebrow at him this time.� �I�m willing to bet that you won�t be
disappointed with the contents of my shorts, either.�

�You talk too much.�� Impatient,
he sat up and squirmed out of his boxers.�
Then, in one practiced tug of her undergarment, the last pesky barrier
was out of the way.� He moved forward,
settling into the spot he�d been in before, between her soft thighs.� Only now it felt much more significant; the
last shards of reason were gone.� This
whole thing felt like a dream, a wild encounter where he was himself but some
version that he�d never met before.� It
came naturally with her � confidence, wit, and this overwhelming desire that,
for once, was within reach.

Her face had changed.� The mischief was gone.� In its place was something else, an
impassioned vulnerability.� She wanted
him, wanted this, but felt as uncertain as he did.� They had both seen and done much, good and
bad, joyous and painful.� There were a
thousand reasons they should stop now, and only one reason why they
shouldn�t.� But wasn�t this curious
attraction enough to overrule the petty scraps of rationality?� In the wake of war and ruin, wasn�t one act
of love that much more significant?

He kissed her more tenderly than he had before.� Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and he
pressed forward into her warmth.� His
brain shut off.� That was quite an
accomplishment�

He moved with her, listening to her sighs.� The world narrowed and became one room.� One bed.�
One woman.� Her sighs became heavy
breaths, mingling with his.� It felt�like
drugs, like transcendence, like an existentialist finding his meaning.

She moaned, causing a hot spear to shoot through him.� He pushed deeper inside her.� She opened like a flower, her hips
rising.� There were no words for this.� Perhaps that was how it was meant to be.

She was slick and warm and he gave himself over to it.� It was so nice to cede control to someone
else � to something else.�
Instinct carried him, filling his nose with the smell of her arousal,
his ears with the sound of her voice, of body against body, and everything else
with the excruciating pleasure in his groin.

She came fast, or maybe she didn�t; he had no concept of time.� Not when her insides clenched like that, or
when his name ripped from her lips in a fit of ecstatic vocalization.� He wasn�t far behind.� His ears rang and his eyes went white as his
body reached its pinnacle.

At first he wasn�t conscious of how much weight he was putting on
her.� Then, as he slowly returned to
himself, he raised up on his elbows.�
Severus Snape met Hermione Granger�s brown eyes and couldn�t look away.

Lilith was curled in a blanket, watching him.� She had been very quiet since the
questioning.

�Aren�t you tired?� Remus asked.�
She shrugged.� �I forget,� he said
with a small smile, �that teenagers don�t sleep at night.�

She tilted her head to the side.�
�How old are you?�

Remus chewed on some dried fruit that he�d nicked from breakfast
earlier that morning.� After a minute he
answered, �Forty-two.�

�Where were you born?�

�England.� Newcastle.�

�Were you born a werewolf?�

He shook his head.� �No.� I was bitten when I was seven.�

�How did your family react?�

�My father died in the attack.�
My mother�she accepted it and did her best to raise me.� She died when I was eighteen.� She wasn�t well and we had no money to
spare.� I think she held on long enough
for me graduate from school.� I�m glad
she was able to see that before she died.��
He chewed his lip.� It had been
his mother�s greatest desire that he got his education.� That, at least, had gone right.� �Other than that, I had no family.�

The girl was frowning.� �Most of
them wanted to kill me.� I heard them say
it was the kindest thing they could do.�

Remus sighed.� He had heard that
kind of thing before, too.� What twisted
logic people employed.� He could
understand if the change was permanent, but it was only one night a month.� For the other twenty-seven days, werewolves
were normal people.

�Lilith, it isn�t easy.� It takes
a toll on your body.� It takes a toll on
your life.� But so does
everything.� The trick is finding a way
to be a person and not just a lycanthrope.�

�No one lets us!� her fist thumped against the chair.� �You�re a hero and still all they can see is
the wolf.�

He shrugged.� The girl was
right.� Certain people here, especially
the dig manager Cyrus, were not comfortable with him.� �I�m used to it, Lilith.� If I let it get to me all the time I�d go
crazy.�

�You�d think after all these wars they would stop drawing lines between
people,� she huffed.� Remus felt a pang
of sympathy; youthful idealism had not yet been driven out of her.� It had taken a long time to bleed out of him.

�There were werewolves that sided with the Dark Lord, and there will
always be some who revel in attacking people, spreading lycanthropy and
fear.� It�s just�� he trailed off.

Lilith smiled sadly.� �The nature
of the beast?�

He nodded, mirroring her smile.�
She had taken the words right out of his mouth.

Anatole was still moody two hours later.� Nick had put their depressing conversation
with Dawn out of his mind; he had always been able to shelve things for later
consideration.� He knew his friend would
continue to think about it, but Nick saw no point in letting it ruin his day.

�You need something,� Nick said as they walked up the beach.

�Yeah, I need to rewind three weeks and never have met Hermione,� he
sighed.� �That would fix everything.�

�I wonder if wizards and witches can time-travel,� Nick responded
thoughtfully.

�I don�t know and I don�t care.�
Besides, if they could don�t you think they�d just go back in time and
kill that Voldemort guy before he became powerful?�

�It�s not that simple and you know it.�

�I�m not a quantum physicist,� Anatole said dismissively.� �The details of the space-time continuum
elude me.�

�Lies,� Nick chuckled.� �I
remember when we were twelve.� You built
a time machine for the science fair.�

�God, don�t remind me.�� As much
as he hated to admit it, Nick was cheering him up.

�Oh, I will remind you.� It was
made of chicken wire and papier mache.��
They passed through the wards, now used to the mildly sinister tingle
that played across their skin.

�And my dad put those sparklers all around it.� It�s a miracle I didn�t burn down the
school.�

�No, I think Kouretas had that covered.�

Anatole laughed out loud.� He had
completely forgotten that.� Their
childhood friend, Kouretas, had learned the hard way what happened when one
left one�s Bunsen burner lit and unattended.

�Oh man�thanks Nick, I needed that.��
He patted his friend on the back.

�Anytime, buddy.� Hey, I think my
sister is making baklava, you know it�s better than the place you get it
from.� Why don�t you�� Nick stopped and looked back, sensing that he
had somehow lost Anatole.� He was
right.� Anatole was gone.

Dread sank into him instantly.�
The street was too quiet and the night too dark.� He was not usually one to be spooked by these
things, but since he�d discovered that wizards and witches and werewolves were
real, anything was possible.� The shadows
held a myriad of ill-defined terrors�

A moment later one of those shadows leapt at him.� He tried to call out but whatever it was, it
was too fast.� In seconds he was crumpled
on the pavement.� His attacker stood over
him, taking in the young face and the solid, well-shaped limbs that splayed
awkwardly across the ground.

�What fortunate men you are, Anatole Vasoulas and Niko Kyriake,� the
man whispered, �to stumble upon this.��

A sharp knock sounded at the door, snapping the mood like an overtaxed
rubber band.� It startled them both, and the
slight movement caused a last pang of pleasure to careen through his groin.

�You have got�to be�kidding me,� Severus said, still breathing hard.

Hermione sighed, half content and half resigned.� �Better now than fifteen minutes ago.�

�I suppose you�re right.�� He
kissed the corner of her mouth.� �I�ll
see who it is.�

He extracted himself from her and pulled on his pants.� Whoever it was, they deserved his bare torso
for interrupting.� With a glance to make
sure Hermione�s modesty was secure, he opened the door.� It was Draco Malfoy.

The shrewd blond opened his mouth to speak and then reconsidered.� �Did I interrupt something?�

Severus ignored the question.�
�What do you want?�

�Two men are here and they say they saw my father today.�

Snape�s eyes widened and his irritation drained away.� This was good news.� At the same time, it was a dose of
reality.� The curious magic of the last
half hour had officially departed.� He
was glad that Lucius was alive, but couldn�t keep a note of reluctance out of
his voice.�

�We�ll be right out.��
- 15
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