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Mission Impossible	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 11774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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A/N: I do again apologise for my delay in updates. Please leave a review!

“Damnnit, won’t you listen to me?” she snapped.

            He glowered at her from across the room. It was not much of a shield but the force field separating them kept her at a good distance from his person. She was no longer shrouded in the blackness that had consumed her after his attack. She had woken with a throbbing pain in her neck, perhaps thinking she was lying supine and dying upon the mattress. But some miraculous twist of fate had found her resting comfortably bandaged and for all intents and purposes still alive. She had discovered him sometime later, bound to a chair with a warding charm around his person in the hovel of a room he called his own. How he’d managed to bind himself to the chair she hadn’t the slightest idea, though she supposed that even in his weakened state he was still a rather accomplished wizard.

            She stood before him in the doorway, as far as the ward would allow her and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I found the book! I know what’s ailing you and I think given the chance I might be able to—”

            “Give it up, would you?” he snarled from his chair. Forcing his head down, he glared at the hardwood floor and then snarled. “You nearly died. It is not worth another attempt. You will take the information and return to The Order.”

            “Damnnit, Severus!” she cursed again. “Why won’t you just—”

            “Have you become so short-sighted in your mission? You are here for the information to advance the protection of The Order in the coming rising of—”

            “My mission was to retrieve you!” she snapped and struggled forward against the invisible barrier that kept the distance between them.

            “Hermione, take the information and go.” He had called her by her name before, but not often and his words stirred hard inside her stomach. It made her nauseas. She was still reeling from the previous events, unsure of how long she had remained unconscious after he had attacked her. Her face hardened as she glared at him once more.

            “You have to sleep sometime,” she spat and crossed her arms tighter over her chest.

            He would not bring his eyes from the floorboards, as if the pattern that lay within them somehow held the answers. Perhaps if he stared at them long enough she would disappear or he would become a part of the floor. The spell he had cast to contain himself to the chair and then force her back from his presence was becoming difficult to maintain; and looking at her was causing his concentration to falter, so he remained focused on the floor, trying t tune out her words.

            “Severus, please,” she pleaded. “It—it was just—” she felt her voice quiver as she stumbled over her words. She had fallen into a false sense of security. She had trusted him. Her mind was bitter and quick to correct her notion; she still trusted him, he had not attacked her intentionally, he couldn’t help himself. It was the curse. “It’s a state of blood-dependent existence; the blood simply needs to be replaced.” She stated.

            He remained silent. Hermione sighed with frustration before stomping her foot and retreating from the doorway. A quick brisk walk back down the stairs and into the study had her returning a moment later with a thick black tome in hand. “I was wrong thinking that it would be in a book of curses, Severus; I found it in an old medical text, under blood diseases.” She flipped the book open. “It acts like a disease, poisoning your blood, creating a madness, a dependency,” the words flowed from her lips in a babble but still she pressed on. “Diseases can be cured, they can be treated!”

            Severus let his eyes fall closed. Why couldn’t the infernal girl leave him to die? Disease or not the chances that he would be unable to restrain himself while she attempted to cure him were too risky. He would not endanger her again. But she was stubborn, and for a moment his mind allowed him the thought that she might even be right. The notion was not impossible; but he would not allow himself to hope, to take the chance.

            Hermione continued to scan through the book, a frown pressing into her features as she read. “Oh dear,” she muttered and then slowly tilted her eyes up to him. He still refused to look at her, his head tilted toward the floor, arms bound behind his back by invisible ropes, legs bound to the legs of the chair in the same manner. “We have a problem,” she said.

            “In so much as you refuse to complete you mission as assigned, you foolish stubborn know-it-all brat,” he spat.

            Her eyes widened. Insults at the tongue of Severus Snape were no rarity, though as of late she felt they had been beyond that stage of interaction. It had been, however, quite some time since he’d referred to her as the know-it-all. A classroom title long forgotten and it surprised her to hear it in the current situation. But before she could ponder it properly she shook her head and cleared her throat. “My mission, as I’ve stated, was to retrieve you. The information is useless without you and you know it.” She could see his lips parting as if to speak but she continued, not giving him the chance. “I cannot— will not— I will not leave here without you, and certainly cannot return you as you are, and that being the case I am going to do my best to cure you of this poisoned blood that has left you as little more than a ravenous savage blood-lusting monster.” She spoke each word with a pointed slowness as if to allow each label to sink upon him in a way that made them truth.

            He could take no more of her. Her presence, the scent of her blood, the need to feel that blood against his lips, greedily dripping down his throat; the struggle to fight those urges. It was driving him mad. His mind was weary; too much energy spent on trying to keep himself bound to the chair and the energy field strong. His lips trembled as he sighed. He felt the protective ward around his person slipping but he was too exhausted to regenerate it.

            The air crackled with the loss of magic and Hermione felt it. She took a careful step forward, stretching her toes further along the floorboard to confirm her suspicions that the ward had been disengaged. She did not smile though a slight warm sensation flooded her chest; though she rather suspected his cooperation was due to his exhaustion and not his willingness. With tome in hand she crossed the room to where he was bound and leaned against the wall. She stood a few feet back from him, but it was enough to see him properly despite the dim light of his dingy bedroom.

            “I’m afraid that simply draining the blood from you would be impossible,” she muttered. “Life sustaining potions while new blood is transplanted would be easy enough to brew…” she mused, closing her eyes and envisioning the supplies in his laboratory beneath them. “And I believe that even draining your blood could be done easily…but I do not have the capability to create blood from nothing, nor do we have blood—” she froze mid sentence and her eyes grew wide. “Wait right here…” she said and dashed from the room.

            Severus let his head fall against his chest. It was too much to hope for. His eyes were still closed and he thought for a moment how wonderful it had been to feel her warm, pulsing skin beneath his hands. The way her veins throbbed beneath her flesh, the way her heart raced when he’d laid his head against her chest; those intoxicating memories flooded his mind and he growled. He was a monster and deserved death, why couldn’t she understand that. But once more she had appeared in the doorway; hesitating only for a moment before entering the room and resuming her place on the wall.

            “Blood replenishes. Your body makes new blood all the time. The problem is your blood is tainted, so your body is replenishing and replicating tainted blood…” she trailed off for a moment. “The human body only needs 60% of its blood to remain stable…”

            “Don’t be daft, you twit,” he spat. “You’d go into shock. Your heart would not be able to keep up, and without sufficient medical assistance you would bleed out.”

            Hermione closed her eyes; feeling the stinging of tears behind them. “Yes, I know,” she muttered. “But what if—” she paused, drawing in a shaky breath. “There has to be a way…”

            “Yes, the way is downstairs, to the safe, with the information and out the door.”

            “Severus you aren’t even trying!”

            “What is there left to try for, Hermione? You are endangering yourself and everyone else by remaining here! I cannot help myself, you said it yourself I am diseased. The information will be lost if I attack you again. You could die. And for what? To prolong the inevitable? Why lose both lives when only mine need be lost. Take the information, Hermione, and go.”

            Hot tears began to break from the corner of her eyes and she sniffled. “You’re right,” she whimpered softly, trying her best to hold back the tears. But they came. Such truth in his words that echoed in her ears. “Why lose both lives…” she sniffed. “When I could save yours.”

            His head shot up faster than he’d intended and he heard and felt the pop in his neck. But his eyes met hers and his face visibly paled though he’d had such little color in his cheeks to begin with. “I will not allow it.” he stated simply.

            “My blood isn’t tainted,” she said. “There would be just enough time…with a proper containment spell…” she hiccupped through her tears and wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “It would rid you of the disease…fresh blood, untainted…and you could deliver the information yourself—”

            “No.” he repeated, his voice firm and loud despite his frail failing condition.

            Hermione stepped slowly forward, setting the tome on the floor. She moved gingerly toward him until she was standing in front of him. She knelt down before him and gazed up into his eyes. Her cheeks were wet with tears; her eyes beginning to swell with redness as she quietly cried. “Severus,” she said. “You are the one that needs to survive this.”

            He held her gaze for a moment and then felt the terrible stinging prickling sensation behind his eyes. It was not a sensation he often felt; having schooled his emotions for decades. It was not the same as the forced bodily response when his muscles and nerves could no longer endure the pain and the tears flowed despite his silence. This was different. The tightening in his chest, the dizziness swelling in the back of his head, and he felt them; the heated sting of saline as they leaked from the inside corner of his eyes. He could not stop them as they rolled silently down his cheeks, his gaze bleary as he tried to meet her eyes.

            The enchantment binding his arms and legs slipped away and he fell to his knees facing her. Hermione flung her arms around his shoulder, buried her head against his neck and wept. For a moment he could feel nothing, sense nothing but the warm tears against his skin, and her tears, crying against his neck. But his arms wound around her figure, holding her close. For a moment his mind was clear. “Hermione,” he whispered, his voice strained, the tears flowing faster than before, more of them staining his cheeks as he too wept. “Please, don’t do this,” he whispered.

            “You need to…” she whimpered, choking back a sob, “I can’t think of another…” she sniffled. “I’m sorry,” she cried.

            Slowly she slipped from his embrace and pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “I need— I need to rest,” she said her lips trembling. “I’m ever so tired, but when I wake—” she said nothing more. Hermione leaned her lips to his cheek. “One life for the greater good,” she whispered and then pressed her lips against his. A chaste, simple kiss, before she rose if a bit unsteadily to her feet and left the room, leaving Severus alone on the floor, tears still streaming silently down his face.

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Mission Impossible