Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Madrigal	By : Rotisserie_Cassowary Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7982 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
When I awoke the next afternoon, the train had long since left. I roamed the grounds for hours, willing the biting cold to clear my mind. Why did she come to you? She wouldn’t have done that if she were scared. It certainly wasn’t guilt; she has nothing to feel guilty about. You behaved like a complete monster, but still she came to you. She was worried about you. No sense of professional or filial responsibility would cause that, right?
But no, you’re thinking like a Slytherin. She’s a fucking Gryffindor, for Merlin’s sake! She can’t help herself! You’re like a baby bird with a broken wing to her. She could never see you in that way, not like a lover. Not like a man.
The first week of Christmas break passed by with interminable sluggishness. The tiny round table in the Hall was far more than I could bear in my current state, so I cooked most of my own meals. I took to making the longest, most involved dishes possible in a futile attempt to keep my mind occupied. I made paella, Peking duck, and beef wellington- all while impossibly drunk.
I sat in my lab and stared at Hermione’s desk for hours, mournfully sipping single malt Scotch. I paced my room like a caged animal every night, unable to sleep unless I drugged myself with numerous potions. My days bled together into an endless stream of anxiety, self-loathing, and misery, barely tempered by the substances I consumed. Fortunately, the other professors were used to my moodiness, particularly around the holidays, so no one thought anything of it.
It was around 3 AM on the eighth day of break when I received the owl. I was prowling the grounds around the lake, having been awoken from a fitful sleep by yet another nightmare. The enormous, imperious-looking eagle owl alighted on my shoulder, startling me out of a particularly venomous bout of self-recrimination. It held out its leg pompously, and as I untied the letter, I saw the Malfoy Family’s distinctively intricate wax seal on the envelope. Wondering what the hell was going on, I opened it and began to read.

My Dearest Severus,
I hope this letter finds you well on this Christmas holiday. I haven’t written you much in these past years; I know serving the pleasure of the Dark Lord has put rather a strain on our friendship. But once upon a time we were the best of friends, remember? How powerful we felt during our initiation… Like nothing could ever touch us! The connection we felt, being a part of something bigger than ourselves, bigger than anything we’d ever imagined! I don’t know why I’m expressing such sentimentality, but I suppose it’s an attempt to convince you of my good intentions. (Or as close to good intentions as is possible for a man such as myself.)
I hold a privileged position, hosting the Dark Lord in my home. I am privy to much valuable information… but also to things I’d rather not be a part of. The day after Draco returned from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord requested to speak with him alone. My son, my only heir, was locked in a room with Him for hours, as I wondered impotently whether he would return to me alive.
It took days for me to get it out of him, but eventually Draco admitted that the Dark Lord had been interrogating him for information about Potter, Weasley, and your Granger. And when he couldn’t remember anything He deemed useful, my precious boy’s mind was raped over and over again for any useful memories, no matter how old or poorly-remembered. For the last two days, Draco has been erratic, volatile, and oftentimes incoherent.
While my dedication to the cause will never waver, I must admit that I am beginning to fear for the well-being of my family. Draco is a young man, still growing every day, and I can’t afford to have his mind devastated by the impatience of the Dark Lord. So take this letter as an olive branch, in the hopes that we may form a more mutually beneficial partnership in the future… A partnership that ensures both of us, and those under our protection, survive to the end of this war.
I offer you this piece of information as a token of my good will: The Dark Lord was able to ascertain the professions of the Granger girl’s parents from Draco’s memories. I was then commanded to track down their dental practice using muggle business listings on the internet. He has an emissary scouting their office as you read this letter. The Death Eater’s instructions are to follow them home this evening, dispose of the parents, and bring the girl to the Dark Lord for interrogation. I assume he means to offer the girl to you as some sort of gift or bargaining chip to ensure your continued compliance.
Do with this information what you will, but know that I do not offer this out of the kindness of my heart. No one is better placed or better equipped to protect my son than you, Severus. In return for saving your girl, I entreat you to save my boy.
Yours always,
Lucius Malfoy

By the time I finished the letter, my heart felt like it was about to leap out of my throat. Shit! Fuck! Damnit! Now you’ve really done it! You’ve put her entire fucking family in danger! All because you’re a weak, filthy pervert! I set off for the castle at a dead sprint, wheels spinning in my mind.
I broke into McGonagall’s office far too easily. Damn woman, aren’t you the slightest bit paranoid? Just a plain lock on the door? Not even a magical ward? I rifled through her student files impatiently, eventually finding Hermione’s folder. I cast a quick Geminus charm on it, taking my copy with me. I flipped through the pages as I headed out of the castle and back down the grounds. I finally found it as I exited the Hogwarts gates, a copy of Hermione’s acceptance letter, buried among truly stellar grade reports and numerous accounts of her rabble-rousing with Potter.
I made sure to cast a powerful Disillusionment Charm before apparating to the street in front of Hermione’s house. Apparation to an unfamiliar location can be exceedingly difficult, so I clutched the letter in my hand like a vice and stared at the address, focusing all my mental might on arriving in one piece.
Upon arrival, I shrunk Hermione’s file and tucked it away inside my cloak. “Hominem Revelio,” I whispered, and glowing figures flared to life inside the houses, but the street was thankfully empty. I proceeded up the walkway to her front door just as the sky began to glow in anticipation of dawn.
I let myself in with a quick, wandless Alohomora charm, silently closing and warding the door behind me. Moving on instinct, I crept cat-like up the stairs I found at the end of the hall. I couldn’t help but stop and admire the countless photographs of Hermione that decorated virtually every wall and surface of the home. Such a blessing to be loved so dearly by your parents. I wonder if I could have been like her once, full of life, full of promise…
The first door at the top of the stairs was a restroom, but the second one I opened revealed Her. The first thought that occurred to me was how very “Hermione” the room was. It was colorful and warm, but soothing. A vibrant hand-painted mural of a willow tree decorated the wall behind Hermione’s twin bed. Mismatched bookshelves lined every wall, all stuffed to bursting. She had a squashy red recliner in the corner with a messy, nearly meter-high pile of books beside it. Her desk was overloaded with parchment and textbooks, but everything was neatly stacked.
I removed the Disillusionment Charm, cast Silencio and Muffliato on the door, and knelt on the floor next to her bed. I allowed myself a moment to admire her in repose. Her hair was braided into a thick, glossy rope; I assume to keep it from annoying her in her sleep. She’d kicked the covers off in the night, so I couldn’t help but admire the expanse of skin her shorts and tank-top revealed.
Her limbs were milky-white and pale in the moonlight, impossibly smooth and slim, like graceful Birch saplings. The muscles in her thighs and calves were defined and supple, and I found myself entertaining a bizarre desire to nibble them, to taste them. Her expression was less peaceful than I expected. She clearly wasn’t sleeping well.
I whispered her name a couple times, and when she failed to stir, I reached for her shoulder and gently shook her. She startled awake silently, reaching under her pillow for her wand before her eyes were even open. When she saw it was me, she immediately relaxed but then frowned concernedly. “Is that really you, Professor? Is something wrong?” When I didn’t immediately answer, she pointed her wand back at me and demanded, “What is the stir pattern for step one of your version of Invigoration Draught?!”
I responded smoothly, “2 dozen clockwise, 6 counter-clockwise, pause 30 seconds, 60 clockwise or until it reaches a rolling boil.” She sighed in relief and placed her wand on the bedside table. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and stared at me anxiously, hugging her pillow to her chest. “Well,” she whispered impatiently, “what’s going on??”
Debating on how best to broach such a sensitive topic, I took her small, lovely hand in my own. Relishing the feel of her warm, peach-soft skin against my own calloused fingers, I looked into her eyes and murmured, “Hermione, I’m going to ask something of you now that may seem so terrifying as to be impossible, but I’m afraid we have no other choice.” I looked at her mournfully, overwhelmed with guilt for putting her in this position. “In war, sacrifices must be made to protect the ones we love. Our own happiness is secondary to the well-being of those we love.”
“Merlin’s beard, you’re really scaring me, Professor! Please, just tell me what’s going on?? Are you going to get yourself killed doing something noble?!” she exclaimed.
“What? No. Nothing like that. Not immediately anyway,” I smirked, much to her annoyance. “No. I’m afraid the problem is your parents, Hermione. The Dark Lord has uncovered their identities. A Death Eater will be waiting outside their office to follow them home tonight,” I told her gravely. “I’m going to need you to be brave and calm, ok? I can help you.”
“Oh, is that all?” she asked brightly. I stared at her then, mouth slightly agape. “Professor, I’ve been working on an evacuation plan for them since I agreed to become your apprentice! Honestly, you think me so naïve that it wouldn’t occur to me that my defenseless muggle parents would be in danger?” she rolled her eyes, looking at me amusedly.
She hopped out of bed, crossing to her desk and pulling a large binder out of the bottom drawer. She crooked her finger to me, beckoning me over, and I gladly obliged. I stood inappropriately close behind her as she bent over the desk and shuffled through the binder. Her aroma was intoxicating, the ever-present herbaceous scent of her shampoo, a hint of morning breath that somehow still smelled like heaven to my hormone-addled mind.
“Aha! Here it is!” She brandished a large, non-descript muggle envelope triumphantly. “I found this amazing medical mission in Africa… It’s like a caravan that travels from village to village, providing health services to people who would normally never get a chance to see a doctor! And they’re always desperate for dentists because dental care is almost unheard-of in a lot of these remote places! It’s a very extensive and stringent process to apply, so it took almost three months before I got the acceptance letter. It was rather hard to write the essays in my parents’ voices, and sneaking around gathering all that personal information about them was NOT easy, and converting muggle post to owl post is exceedingly expensive… But I did it!” She waved the letter proudly, a radiant smile on her face. “They’re so excited to have TWO dentists coming, and for an indefinitely long period of time, that they didn’t even care when I told them that ‘we’ would need a few months to get our business affairs in order! I have my parents’ reply saying they’re on their way to Nairobi right here! They just have to stick it in the mailbox on their way to the airport!” she concluded proudly, dazzling me with her smile.
“That. Is. Fucking. Brilliant,” I told her with admiration. “Being constantly on the move and sticking to third-world countries is the most effective way to go into hiding. And you found a way for them to still work and be doing something really valuable… You’re amazing, Hermione. You never cease to astound me. Your cleverness puts me to shame, that’s for sure,” I praised her, surprising myself with how out-of-character it was.
Her face was luminous with delight from my compliments. I could see nearly every last one of her teeth as she beamed at me. I’d never seen her so beautiful, and my chest ached to look upon her agonizing brilliance.
How are you so bloody magnificent?! Not only are you painfully gorgeous to look at, but you’re probably the most gifted wizard born in a century! How could I ever think I’d be worthy of you? I mused.
She wrapped her arms around my waist in a far-too-brief hug, then darted off to the restroom to shower and dress. I occupied myself thumbing through her muggle books as I tried in vain to avoid imagining her in the shower. The thin wall separating us did little to help the cause. I could hear every splash of water, and I even heard a little gasp when she nearly slipped getting out of the tub. I willed my cock to be more respectful of the gravity of the situation, but it was futile.
By the time she returned, wet-haired and dressed in a muggle sweater dress with tights, I was sitting in her armchair and resolutely meditating. I sensed her standing before me, so I opened my eyes, feigning nonchalance. “You’d better go wake your parents, Miss Granger. Quickly explain the situation to them and help them pack their essentials. I’d like to have them clear of the house by sunrise.” She nodded her assent and steeled herself, taking a deep breath and straightening her posture, then headed downstairs to her parents’ room.
Needing to make myself useful, I pulled out a non-descript pine box I’d treated with a powerful Non-Detectable Extension Charm. I systematically packed the wooden box by magic, levitating and stacking every last book, folder, and piece of parchment in the entire room. I then moved to her dresser and closet, carefully stowing all her clothing as well. Finally, I made an elaborate flourish with my wand, cried “Gadurona!”, and every last knick-knack in the room whirled into the box like a rather orderly tornado. When Hermione returned, her eyes and face were red and slightly swollen, but her expression was stoic. She gave an approving glance around the room then took my hand, “Let’s do this.”
- 16
- 17
- 18
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Madrigal