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What it comes down to	By : melinda1293 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 115221 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
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
- 18
- 19
- 20
Chapter 19. Snape in the Grass

There was just no reasoning with Harry. He woke with a fierce determination to meet Snape, and there wasn’t anything she or Ron could say to change his mind. They were lucky, actually, that he was even speaking to them at all, or that he hadn’t woken up determined to finish the job he’d started before his strength had given out last night.
Hermione had been so afraid yesterday. Afraid of what the potion had done to him, what she’d done to him, and then his rage. She’d never seen him so angry before, not at her, though she didn’t blame him at all. She’d only tried to help him stay calm, but it had backfired so badly. She had no idea that potion would affect him like it had, or she certainly would never have given it to him. Once he’d finally broken free of it at last, his anger was so explosive when he’d let loose on them that it terrified her. It had never been directed at Ron and her like that before.
It hurt. It hurt because she didn’t have any excuse. She shouldn’t have made him take it. She shouldn’t have forced him to participate in the stupid party Mrs. Weasley had wanted to throw. She should have listened when he said he wasn’t ready to see them. It had been foolish, but she’d honestly thought it would help him to be around them. And then what he’d said to Ginny…oh, God! It broke her heart. He’d just looked so devastated, and it was her fault, entirely her fault.
She wished she had her time turner back at that moment so she could go back and undo all the damage she’d caused. But if she could have done that, she might not be able to stop. She might not be able to stop going farther and farther back, undoing things, re-writing everything that had happened to them since the day they left the Burrow last summer. Maybe even before that.
She’d tried to apologize again this morning, but he’d hardly let her get the words out before he fled to the bathroom. Then he burst back out again after showering, looking terrified. He looked as if Voldemort himself had appeared next to him in the tub and tried to curse him, or something. He’d admitted that he’d been terrified, but of what, he wouldn’t say. Then just like that, he changed. The fear had been replaced with a single-minded focus. Hermione had no idea what had come over him. It was like he’d just suddenly decided his convalescence was over. Harry was simply finished recovering, and he wouldn’t let Ron or her touch him. He’d actually headed down the stairs on his own before she or Ron could really even get their heads around what was happening. The unexplained fear had given him an apparent burst energy. They were both left open-mouthed as he marched to the door.
Still, it took him a long while to get down the stairs. He clung to the banister for dear life, but he flat refused Ron’s help, and that was her fault, too. She knew it was because of what she’d said to him the day before. He was taking back the power from her. She’d been a poor steward of it. The power she’d held over his head yesterday, which she’d tried to use to control him, to get him to agree to her plans, it belonged to him again.
When they’d settled in the drawing room, both she and Ron tried to talk him out of his plans, but he wasn’t having any of it. And he’d go alone if they refused to help him. She knew it. He was just that stubborn. In the end, the best they could do was try to work out some sort of a plan for how to get there and back safely.
The Weasley’s family owl, Errol, came at lunch with a letter for Harry and a howler for Ron. Interrupting their continued pleas for Harry to see reason, the old owl landed, exhausted, on the couch next to Harry. He gave a feeble sort of hoot and took off immediately after Harry had removed his burden, though he looked near collapse from the trip. Apparently, even he wasn’t fool enough to stick around long enough to hear Ginny’s angry voice magnified a hundred times normal, raging at her brother for the fiasco of his party the night before.
Harry hurriedly dropped the already smoking blood red parchment on the coffee table, and it exploded into flame as they all clamped their hands down over their ears.
“RONALD! YOU PRAT!” Ginny’s voice screamed shrilly, the sound burrowing between Hermione’s fingers to vibrate painfully against her eardrums. “YOU SAID NOT TO RUN AT HIM, YOU SAID NOT TO STARTLE HIM OR MAKE HIM FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE, AND THEN YOU TURNED AROUND AND DID JUST THAT! THIS IS COMPLETELY YOUR FAULT! I HOPE HARRY KICKED YOUR ARSE AFTER WE LEFT. YOU DESERVED IT. YOU BETTER HAVE A FAT LIP OR A BLACK EYE THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU OR I’LL GIVE YOU ONE MYSELF! HE’S NEVER GOING TO LET US SEE HIM AGAIN. YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY WITH YOURSELF…oh...and Happy Birthday, git.”
They all sat in complete silence while they waited for the ringing in their ears to subside as the howler disintegrated into ash on the table. Hermione sat nervously, waiting for Harry’s rage to start back up again at the reminder of last night’s fiasco. Afraid that the sound of Ginny’s voice back here in the room where Hermione had humiliated him in front of her would cause him to erupt into violence again, Hermione held her breath.
Harry’s eyes were wide. He looked stunned for a minute, and then the corners of his lips twitched unexpectedly. He cleared his throat. Both she and Ron stared at him, bracing for the explosion.
“Well, I tried,” Harry said hoarsely. “Give me a few more weeks to get my strength back. I might be able to do the job properly then, and maybe she’ll go easy on you at Easter if you go for a visit,” he finished, suppressing a snort.
“Nice,” Ron replied after a moment of surprised silence at Harry’s words. “You know, Harry, I took it last night because I deserved it and more, but I’m not volunteering for another round,” he told him, massaging his jaw. “You actually landed the one to my chin pretty hard, and my ribs are sore, too. You just kept going after that same spot, over and over again.”
He grinned lopsidedly at Harry, and Harry actually smiled back. Well, it was a smirk really, but still. It was the most bizarre thing she’d ever seen. Hermione would simply never understand boys at all. How they could be grinning while discussing the terrible fight they had last night. It was insanity.
“Still, I think I’d rather have another round with you than face off against Ginny,” Ron said in complete honesty.
Harry nodded in agreement, his face going blank again at hearing her name spoken. The levity of the moment suddenly gone as quickly as it had come.
The fact that he’d excluded himself from an Easter visit wasn’t lost on Hermione. ‘If you go to visit,’ he’d said. He’d also made it clear that they weren’t coming here for Easter either. She watched him run his hand over his unopened letter from Ginny. Harry stroked it. Tracing his finger over his name written in her handwriting, he stared at it in total silence for a long time. Then he slid it into the back pages of his journal with a sigh and set it aside.
She sighed then, too. God, she’d made a mess of things, and she didn’t know how to put it right again.

Harry worked in the afternoon with the blackthorn wand, practicing simple spells, familiarizing himself with it again after so long, testing the strength of his magic and his voice. The transformation in him from yesterday to today was astounding. He had a fiercely determined look on his face as he concentrated on levitating the rubber ball Madame Pomfrey had given him. He looked more like the Harry she knew than he had in weeks. It was scary, actually. He was planning this meeting with Snape with a fever she’d never seen, completely and utterly focused.
He didn’t like the wand, she knew. He had some trouble getting it to perform for him properly. She was glad to see him practicing with it, though. She was sure it was all in his head. He’d convinced himself that it wasn’t as good as his old wand, which she could sympathize with. She’d become attached to her wand, too, and understood that Harry longed for his old one. But she’d broken it and couldn’t repair it. If he would just accept this one, however, she knew he’d get better. He just needed to gain more confidence with it was all, and then everything would be fine.
When they retired for the evening, Harry tackled the stairs alone again, refusing any assistance. It had taken him an extremely long time. He was weak and shaking by the time he made it into the bedroom, completely drenched with sweat. Hermione was worried that she’d caused him to push himself too far as she watched him fall into bed. The fight with Ron the night before and his total independence today, his refusal of any help, was putting a strain on his body. It was taking a toll on his muscles. He looked more flushed today than usual, and she feared a setback if he didn’t slow down.
They all struggled to get to sleep that night, which was highly unusual. Most nights, Harry was so exhausted from the activities of the day, that he was asleep before they could drag the blankets over him. Tonight, they all lay there next to each other in awkward silence. Flat on their backs, they stared up at the ceiling, not touching each other, not moving or fidgeting. Their thoughts were a wild jumble, or hers were, at least, nervous for what tomorrow would bring. Finally they all fell asleep one by one. Ron first, and then Harry, and then it seemed a long while later before she finally followed them.
She came awake much too early, feeling as if she had only just closed her eyes a moment before. It was still totally dark in the room and she couldn’t understand what had woken her. She heard Ron’s soft snores beside her and she blinked into the darkness, listening for a disturbance. Then Harry moaned, shifting restlessly on the bed, mumbling in his sleep. He was curled up, facing her, though in the utter darkness she could barely make out his outline. She knew immediately he was having a nightmare.
He’d had several nights of uninterrupted sleep, and it figured that tonight would be the night his mind chose to torment him. Turning to face him, mirroring his position, she stroked his hair, trying to soothe him while his arms twitched and his legs jerked.
“Nooo,” he moaned, his hands curling into fists. “That’s not true...”
“Shhhh,” she whispered as she continued to stroke him, listening as he ground his teeth together and shook his head, whining softly. “It’s okay, Harry. You’re safe.”
Scooting closer to him, she slid her arm under his head to pull him against her. He clutched at her shirt then, going stiff all over for a second before he started to tremble. His body was so warm from the fever, radiating heat as he thrashed against her. He cried out then and jerked his head off her shoulder, coming awake with a start. She could feel him swiveling his head around, breathing hard, trying to orient himself in the darkness.
Hermione lay perfectly still, pressed against his side, afraid to startle him while he tried to get himself under control. And then she could feel rather than see him looking down at her.
“Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.
He drew in a shuddering breath and held it. Then he squeezed his fists and released them, forcing his limbs to stop shaking as he blew the breath out through his nose.
“It was just a nightmare,” she told him soothingly. “Everything’s okay...you’re okay now.”
She pulled him back down next to her, resting his head back on her shoulder. He didn’t resist her. It was the first time since that awful party that he’d let her touch him.
“It was just a bad dream,” she cooed softly as Harry allowed himself be pulled back into her, let her stroke his hair while his body relaxed and his breathing returned to normal.
She continued to hum quietly to him for a long time, twirling a strand of his hair through her fingers, until he’d gone limp in her arms, until she thought he’d fallen back to sleep.
“Wasn’t a nightmare,” he finally whispered into the darkness. “It was a memory… about him.”
He sighed, shifting his weight beside her into a more comfortable position.
“What did you dream, Harry? What did he do?” she asked, her hand stilling in his hair while he lay against her, waiting for his reply, but he didn’t answer.
“I’m scared, Harry,” she confessed softly, and he tilted his head up to her.
Sliding her arm out from under him, she curled up on her side to face him again.
“I’m afraid to leave the house. I’m afraid to be back out there, in the woods,” she told him, her voice quivering, and she was the one shaking now.
The idea of finding herself back in the woods like they had been when they were captured, of what could happen if it was a trap was making her hyperventilate, making her feel frantic. She didn’t think any of them could survive another imprisonment. And she knew they wouldn’t play with them this time if they were captured. Even the Death Eaters weren’t stupid enough not to summon Voldemort immediately if they ever got their hands on Harry again.
She was afraid that her mind would seize up as soon as her feet touched the forest floor. That she would completely lose her head and be totally useless, defenseless.
“Aren’t you afraid?” she asked him, trying desperately to talk him out of it one more time.
“More than you know,” he answered quietly. “But I still have to go.”
“What are you afraid of, Harry?” she asked, not really expecting an answer from him.
“Everything,” he breathed. “I’m afraid I’ll fall apart when I see him…and I’m afraid I won’t. That I’ll kill him as soon as he appears, out of fear or something, and not get any of the answers I need from him.”
Ron had stopped snoring at some point, and she wondered if he was still sleeping or if he was awake now, too, and listening silently to their confessions.
“What does he want?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Harry, if they catch us…” she whimpered, voicing the thing that terrified her the most.
“I won’t let them take us again,” he said simply, his voice low and raspy, but cold as a stone. “I’ll kill us all before I let them take either of you from me.”
She whimpered again, letting out a shaky breath.
“Thank you, Harry.”
It was weird, but she actually felt comforted. The idea that Harry would lay waste to all of them should have terrified her, but it didn’t. She understood that if there were no other options, Harry would ensure that they wouldn’t suffer at the Death Eaters’ hands again, and the realization was a relief. It made her insides go calm and her limbs stop trembling.
“I’m so sorry, for what I did yesterday,” she whispered then. Trying again to apologize, begging for his forgiveness. So desperate to make things right with him before this terrible trip tomorrow, before they walked into the unknown.
He said nothing, but took in a deep breath and stroked her face once, sliding his knuckles along her cheek before letting his hand drop back to the bed.
“I’m afraid of who I’m becoming, Hermione,” he confessed suddenly and shuddered, the words still barely a whisper. “Afraid of what they’ve turned me into.”
The complete darkness seemed to be liberating his tongue, hiding his fear and giving him courage to share more with her than he would if he could see her face, if he had to look in her eyes, she thought.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to protect you…from myself.”
“Shhhh,” she said as a tear leaked out of the corner of her eye at his words. “Hush now.”
Reaching out, she stroked his arm, sliding her fingers down his heated skin and then squeezing his fingers in hers. They lay quietly after that, both of them barely breathing, blinking in the darkness for a long time, though neither of them had fallen asleep. And when it seemed their conversation had come to an end, she closed her eyes again.
“Were you awake this morning, Hermione?” he asked her then.
The words were so low, they were barely audible, the whispered sounds barely reaching her ears. Spoken so quietly that she could pretend she hadn’t heard them, pretend that she was already asleep, and so she did.
She kept her eyes closed and breathed in and out slowly, deeply, letting her body relax completely, letting her hands go limp in his. After another minute, he rolled onto his back with a little sigh, though she couldn’t tell if it was in relief or disappointment.
When they woke up the next morning, they got dressed and had breakfast in near total silence. All of them nervously contemplating their task, terrified of what would happen, of what they were walking into.
At eleven o’clock, she tucked the beaded bag with all their possessions into the waistband of her jeans and stood to meet Ron and Harry in the middle of the drawing room. Ron slid the invisibility cloak over his head while she performed a disillusionment charm on herself. Harry would be the only one of the three visible when they Apparated into the forest clearing where they’d pitched their tent in the Forest of Dean two months before. From there, they would walk to the pool of water where Snape’s patronus had led Harry, where Ron had saved Harry’s life and shattered the locket. They were going early to ensure they weren’t ambushed. Also, it was a fair distance to the pool, and Harry would be slow going. She would stay with Harry, and Ron would scout on ahead.
They stood there a minute, each gripping their wand and each other’s hands. Then she swallowed her fear and turned on the spot. Twisting into nothingness, she pulled them with her into darkness.
They landed in the sheltered clearing exactly where their tent had stood. It was no longer covered in snow as it had been the last time they were here, but otherwise it looked exactly as she remembered it. Harry staggered into her as soon as his feet hit the ground, gasping for breath, before going to one knee in the soft, damp dirt of the forest floor.
“Harry!” she whispered in alarm. “Are you okay?”
He nodded his head, but began to cough. Clutching his side, still struggling for breath, he held the other hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Hermione stared around, wand up though it shook in her hand as she listened intently for any other sound. Her ears were straining for the sound of running footsteps, of muffled voices, of spells streaking towards them, but she heard only the wind blowing in the still-bare branches of the trees that surrounded the clearing. She heard her own thumping heartbeat and the sound of her labored breathing and Harry’s muffled coughing.
“Ron?” she called softly.
“Yeah…I’m here,” he whispered worriedly, very close to her left ear. “Harry, did you get splinched or something?”
“No,” Harry groaned. “I’m all right.”
But he didn’t sound all right at all.
Oh, this was a bad idea, she thought as she knelt down to help him.
“Harry, are you sure you’re okay? We can go back...”
“I’m fine,” he said, gritting his teeth and getting to his feet with her help, swaying a little. “It just hurt, is all. Feels like being squeezed through a rubber tube, you know, and I couldn’t breathe for a minute…but I’m fine now,” he said reassuringly, releasing her hand.
Still, she wasn’t convinced. Blood could be squirting from his neck, he could’ve left a leg back at Grimmauld Place, and he’d still insist on going ahead with this damn meeting, telling them both he was fine, no matter what the evidence to the contrary.
She pressed her lips together firmly to keep from begging him to abandon this plan and go back.
“All right then,” Ron said grimly. “I’m going to go on ahead. See what’s waiting for us over there.”
“Be careful, Ron,” she pleaded desperately, utterly terrified for him to go on his own and leave them.
She listened as Ron walked away from them under the cloak. Listening as his footsteps grew fainter and her anxiety grew stronger while she waited for Harry to steady himself. He took several deep breaths, and then he, too, set off with her following right behind him, close enough to grab him and Apparate away if there was any sign of danger, but not helping him navigate the treacherous terrain. If anyone saw them approach, Disillusioned or not, they would know he wasn’t alone if he was leaning on her for support. She let him lead because she’d never been to the pool where Harry found the sword, where he’d found Ron again.
They moved incredibly slowly on the uneven ground. She held her wand at the ready and kept her eyes peeled for any sign of movement, any hint of an ambush. Her concern for Harry increased as his breathing became more labored, until he was almost wheezing. His face grew pale and sweat poured off him, though the March air was still quite chilly, and there was a fair amount of wind blowing down the neck of her jumper.
By the time they finally got to the rendezvous point, Hermione was downright fearful for him. Harry was shaking all over, the long walk draining all his strength. He just wasn’t healthy enough for this trip, she thought. He stumbled to the water’s edge, groaning as he knelt down in the tall reeds that surrounded the pool. Cupping the freezing water in his hands, he splashed his face, trying to catch his breath, while she stood silently next to him, afraid to speak now that they were here.
She peered around for a sign of Ron or Snape, but Harry looked totally alone beside the pool. Snape or any number of other Death Eaters could be under invisibility cloaks or Disillusioned as well, however, so she didn’t let down her guard.
Harry remained on his knees at the water’s edge, possibly too exhausted to stand and wait for Snape. Or perhaps he was conserving what strength he had left to attack the man when he appeared. Hermione didn’t know, but she stood there next to him as the minutes ticked by, watching the wind blow against the reeds. Watching as it blew a fallen leaf across the surface of the water like a tiny sailboat across a lake, still listening intently for Snape’s approach. Finally, after she thought she would go mad with the silence and the waiting, she heard the small pop of apparition.
Whipping her head around towards the sound, she squinted at a place across the pool where two massive oak trees grew close together, directly across from where Harry still knelt at the pool’s edge. It was as if he knew that Snape would materialize exactly there. She watched his shoulders tense up and his fingers grip his wand as he continued to stare at the spot. They both watched as Snape stepped out from behind the cover of the trees.
He walked silently to stand at the opposite end of the pool, his black robes billowing in the breeze. His wand was held at his side as he stared at Harry, who rose slowly from his knees to face him.
Neither of them spoke for a long time. Now that Harry was finally face to face with Snape, it appeared he had no words, nor did Snape. They both just stared intently at each other. It was disturbing. The tension building around them was palpable.
“Potter,” Snape finally spoke. “I didn’t think you would actually come.”
When Harry didn’t respond, he continued. “Where are Weasley and Granger? Under your cloak somewhere? I know you didn’t come here alone.” He looked around. “You don’t even look healthy enough to have managed apparition without assistance.”
“Well, they’re dead, of course,” Harry replied, his gravelly voice deadly calm. Only the trembling of his hands gave away the rage or fear he felt. “Isn’t that right? Isn’t that what you told me?” he asked, but it was Snape’s turn to remain silent while they continued to stare at each other.
“I was trying to save your miserable hide,” Snape finally responded.
“Yeah? Turns out yours was the one that needed saving.”
“Because you were a fool, as usual,” Snape snarled. “A fool who can’t follow simple instructions. A fool who was trying to get yourself and everyone around you killed!”
“And whose instructions were you following, Snape?” Harry asked, his voice ice cold. “Why the hell were you even trying to get me out at all? Is your hatred for me so strong that you’d deny your own master the opportunity to kill me? Did you want to save that treat for yourself? Or were you just trying to get me somewhere more private to finish what you started with me?”
“I was following Dumbledore’s orders,” Snape answered simply.
Hermione’s mouth fell open as well as Harry’s.
“You’re joking,” Harry scoffed in total disbelief. “Dumbledore’s dead…you killed him. You may be able to convince a corrupt Ministry of your innocence, but I was there, Snape. I saw it with my own eyes.” His voice was a growl, full of outrage.
“I do not deny that I killed him, but it was not murder. Dumbledore was already dying. His death was planned.”
“You’re out of your fucking mind—”
“Dumbledore had been cursed, Potter, as I’m sure he told you in your little meetings together,” Snape interrupted quickly. “I trapped it in his hand, but I could not stop its progress for long. He had very little time left. He ordered me to kill him to spare Draco from the task the Dark Lord had set him.”
“You expect me to believe that Dumbledore asked you to kill him?” Harry asked in contempt. “Did he order you to try to kill George, too? Did he tell you to sexually assault me in the dungeons? Did you two plan that as well?”
Harry snorted derisively, and Hermione sucked in a sharp breath behind him, though Snape seemed not to have noticed. His focus was totally on Harry.
“He sent me to try and rescue you, yes. What happened there was… regrettable.” Snape spoke the words as if they were distasteful. “It was… an unfortunate mistake,” he said through gritted teeth.
Harry laughed incredulously.
“It was a mistake, all right,” he growled. “Every potion tastes like you in my mouth now, and I can’t get it out. You can call it unfortunate or regrettable, but you’re not sorry, are you? You bastard! In the end, you enjoyed it. You got off—”
“I was trying to get you out of there without destroying my cover,” Snape spat in growing irritation, interrupting Harry. “You were near death, Potter. We had an audience. I did the least amount of damage possible under the circumstances.”
“The least…” Harry spluttered, outraged. “You fucking…you knew exactly what you were doing! You meant to humiliate me. I was holding my own against you. In fact, I may have been kicking your arse both mentally and physically. I wasn’t giving you the information you were trying to pry out of my mind for Tom, and I distinctly remember you flat on your back at one point. I put you there!” Harry yelled, jabbing his own chest with his finger.
“You flatter yourself, Potter. You were delirious with fever. Your thoughts were nothing but insane ramblings. Not unlike they are now. And as for your physical prowess,” he sneered. “Another round with any of the Death Eaters would have ended you. I did what I had to do. I had no choice. Your idiocy nearly got us both killed. Incidentally, you look as if you could use a few more potions now, Potter. You still look near death,” Snape observed.
Hermione had to agree with his assessment. Harry appeared to be weakening the longer he was on his feet. He was swaying already, and it looked as if a strong breeze would blow him over, sending him face first into the water. Her fear for him was increasing by the minute. This meeting couldn’t end soon enough as far as she was concerned. She wanted to get Harry home to Grimmauld Place as quickly as possible.
“Well, I did have another round with your mates, didn’t I?” Harry bit back. “Once you were gone? I was left with the whole lot of them, and they were a little bit pissed with me for saving your skin, I can tell you.”
“You were a fool to stay. It was suicide.”
“Maybe, but I’m not like you, Snape. I can’t just leave my friends behind to die.”
“How did you escape?” Snape asked, as if he couldn’t stop himself. Genuinely interested to know how Harry accomplished it.
Harry laughed again, yet there was no humor in it.
“Well…Lucius ran off and told all the other Death Eaters what a good little cocksucker I was after you sent him and Avery out, you see,” he began in a mocking tone.
Hermione’s mouth fell open again in shock.
“So they all came down to see for themselves, and, of course, interrupted your clever little escape plan,” Harry sneered. “Anyway,” he continued, speaking quickly, “once you were gone, they agreed to let me go if I sucked them all off. So they lined up against the wall in the cellar corridor and made me blow them one by one. My lips wouldn’t work for a week, and my jaw is still sore, but what the hell. Thanks for teaching me how, Snape. It really saved my arse in there. A real useful skill to have in emergencies,” he finished.
They both scowled at each other furiously for several minutes while Hermione continued to reel at his words.
“Why did you give me the sword?” Harry asked abruptly.
“Dumbledore insisted you have it,” Snape replied coolly. “To what use did you put it?” he asked in return, as if this were some kind of duel of words, and maybe it was. “What did Dumbledore think you could possibly need it for, on the run as you were? Hiding out in the middle of a forest,” he said, waving his hand around to take in their surroundings.
“Were you in love with her?” Harry asked volleying back, the question completely unexpected. “Is that why you hate me so much?”
Snape had gone silent, stunned maybe by the question, or by the rapid changes of direction in the topic of conversation.
Harry seemed to be skipping around, hurling random questions at Snape as if trying to trip him up, following a script in his mind that Hermione couldn’t understand. And he was panting again, tiring, bracing his legs farther apart to help balance himself.
“Did you hate her, too, then when she chose my dad? Is that why you sent him after her? In revenge?”
Snape jerked backwards as if Harry had slapped him. His eyes flashed dangerously, his nostrils flared and his teeth clenched together, but he remained silent.
“Why did you call me here, Snape?” Harry finally asked in irritation when it appeared that Snape had nothing more to say. “You get lonely out here on your own? Looking to rendezvous for a one-off, or something?” he snarled. “Thought maybe I’d be more willing this time? That I’d be grateful, perhaps, and you wouldn’t have to threaten to assault Hermione again to get my mouth around you? Is that it? Or were you hoping I’d bring her along for you?”
“Pott—” Snape began, taking an aggressive step forward before his head snapped back with sudden force.
She and Harry both raised their wands simultaneously as Snape staggered backwards clutching his nose.
“You piece of shit!” Ron roared, throwing off the invisibility cloak and charging Snape. “You’ll never touch her. You’ll never touch either of them again.”
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione cried in fear.
Snape’s wand soared out of his hand before he had a chance to react, to defend himself against Ron, who caught him in the chest. Then they both went down in the tall reeds.
“Ron!” Harry shouted in alarm as Hermione hurried around the pool toward the struggling men.
Ron had straddled Snape’s chest, pinning him to the ground while he continued to throw punches at Snape’s head.
“Impedimenta!” Harry yelled hoarsely, knocking Ron off of Snape.
“INCARCEROUS,” Hermione shouted at the same time.
Ropes flew from her wand and bound Snape from neck to ankle as Ron jumped back to his feet, whirling on Harry, who was struggling to make his way towards them around the water’s edge.
“What did you do that for?” Ron yelled furiously, glaring at Harry.
Harry stopped to pick up Snape’s wand. All the color drained from his face when he stood back up. He staggered a moment before righting himself as Hermione rapped herself hard on the head to end the charm concealing her.
“I’m not finished with him,” Harry replied wearily. “Release him.”
He turned to her. Hermione stared at him a moment uncertainly before flicking her wand to sever the ropes binding Snape.
“Very clever, Potter,” Snape said, still lying flat on his back in the tall grass, now wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve. “I wouldn’t have thought you capable, but of course, it was Miss Granger’s plan, no doubt.”
Ron growled, kicking out at him again, though with his own wand and Harry’s and Hermione’s pointed at him, Snape did not retaliate.
“Why did you ask me here?” Harry asked again, his voice weakening even further while he held a hand out to Ron to forestall any further attacks.
“I have information for you. Dumbledore wanted you to have it when the time was right, but thanks to you, I’m no longer in a position to know when that time has come.”
“What kind of information?” Harry asked.
Snape moved suddenly, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all raised their wands to point at his heart.
“I have something for you,” he answered with a sneer, though he moved much more slowly then, deliberately.
Carefully pulling a vial from his pocket, he held it in his open palm so Harry could see it. It contained some kind of silvery substance that was not liquid and yet not gas, either. Hermione stared at it, unsure what it was, but Harry seemed to recognize it immediately.
“Memories?” he asked. “Dumbledore asked you to deliver memories to me?”
“No. He asked me to give you the information contained in these memories when the time was right. When the Dark Lord began to keep the great serpent close to him at all times, when he no longer sent Nagini out to do his bidding. Dumbledore wanted you to have this information then and only then,” he finished, holding the vial up to Harry.
Harry didn’t take it from him.
“I cannot wait until that time to deliver it. My life is, of course, in danger, and I am no longer privy to the Dark Lord’s plans. This is as close as I can come to fulfilling Dumbledore’s wishes. I will leave it to you to view the memories when the time is right,” he explained while Harry stared at him.
Finally, Harry reached out cautiously and closed his hand around the vial. Hermione clutched his arm at the same time, in case it was cursed or was a portkey meant to whisk Harry away from them.
Harry continued to stare intently at Snape for a long while. Then to Hermione’s great surprise, he dropped Snape’s wand at his feet and stepped back.
“What are you—” Ron began.
“You need to be careful, Snape,” Harry warned their former professor who was still lying prone and bleeding in the grass. “Tom wants you almost as much as he wants me now. He’s quite furious with you. I’d thought to kill you myself, but I can’t help but think it’s more fitting for you to live in fear of your Master coming to call on you. I saw what he did to Lucius after we’d escaped. Did you know he’s dead? Did you know Tom killed him?”
“Yes,” Snape admitted, “I am aware.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked. “Well, I got a front row seat.”
He tapped the scar on his forehead.
“He was livid. He gathered all the remaining Death Eaters for the show. All of the ones you and I didn’t manage to kill or badly injure, that is. He wanted to make an example of him, you see, show the others what the consequences would be if they disobeyed him,” Harry said bitterly.
Then he wiped at his nose, which had suddenly started to drip blood.
“Harry!” Hermione cried in alarm.
“Potter, you are unwell,” Snape said, starting to sit up, but Harry pointed his wand at him again and he stilled.
“He used a bone breaker curse on Lucius. Smashing every bone in his body, one by one, until the weight of his own flesh crushed him. He was suffocating, broken bone shards piercing his organs, while his wife and son watched along with all the other Death Eaters,” Harry whispered.
“I watched as Lucius screamed in agony until he could no longer draw breath. I got to watch it all, feel it all, too, and I can tell you it wasn’t pleasant. Has he ever done that in your presence? Have you ever had to witness that?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for a response.
“He punished the others, too, but didn’t murder any more of them. He wanted them all dead, but he’d apparently decided that he’d suffered enough losses between those I killed and your betrayal. So instead, he made every last person in that room scream with pain until the noise was deafening before they fell unconscious, one by one.”
Harry coughed wetly into his hand then, doubling up and moaning. Hermione tightened her grip on his arm to keep him from going back to his knees.
“I hated Lucius with everything I am,” Harry continued when he could draw a wheezy breath again, straightening back up. “He was a cruel and evil man, and I would have killed him myself if I’d had the chance, but I couldn’t have done that to him. I couldn’t have done it in front of his family,” he confessed, and then he paused, wiping again at his nose as more color drained from his face.
“Tom’s the devil, Snape,” Harry told him softly.
All the hairs stood up on Hermione’s arms at his voice. At the deadly calm way he spoke as he told his awful tale. Snape, too, had gone pale, almost as pale as Harry.
“Get out of England,” Harry warned him then. “Dumbledore is dead, and Tom won’t stop until he has you. Keep running, Snape, while I keep working to end him.”
They stared at each other for a very long time. Then Snape finally nodded. Harry stepped back from him, letting him get to his feet. Snape bent to retrieve his wand while she and Ron moved to either side of Harry to help support and protect him.
“I would have attempted to get them to safety, you understand, Potter,” Snape explained as he straightened again, gesturing with his head to Ron. “My priority at the time, however, was you. Your condition was most dire. I fear it may still be.”
He studied Harry intently for a moment, as if searching for something in Harry’s face before glancing at her.
“Get him some medical attention, Miss Granger,” Snape instructed.
Then he turned, vanishing in a whirling of his cloak with a soft pop.
“Let’s go,” Ron said angrily as soon as Snape had disappeared.
Hermione didn’t waste any time. Nodding grimly, she turned on the spot, pulling them all back to Grimmauld Place.
They appeared a moment later in the foyer. She and Ron couldn’t hold Harry up any longer as his knees gave way. Sliding to the floor, he landed on all fours, pulling them down with him. His body heaved, wracked with a fit of coughing. Blood fell from his nose and was expelled violently from his lungs, flecking the entryway.
“DOBBY!” Hermione yelled frantically.
The little elf appeared instantly in front of them. He shrieked in terror when he saw Harry.
“Dobby, go fetch Madame Pomfrey, quickly!” she urged him.
He vanished with a loud crack as Harry collapsed unconscious to the floor.

~ . ~

Arrrgggg…So much talking! I swear, this whole chapter seemed like nothing but dialogue, and you know how much I hate that! LOL. Anyway, here it is. I hope it didn’t disappoint. And don’t worry, I don’t intend to start poor Harry all over again recovering.
G.
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What it comes down to

Chapter 19. Snape in the Grass