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Breaking Forwards	By : lastcrazyhorn Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > General Views: 13749 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Not mine. J.K. Rowling's fandom. She's makes money off these stories and I do not. Nor will I ever. Harry Potter is all hers. sniffles But the weird twisted shit? Muahahhaa.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
A/N – Been awhile hasn't it? Let's blame the holidays, shall we? I didn't mean to turn this chapter into such a heavily Hermione-centric place to be, but hey, at least I have a better idea of where I'm going now! And I'm happy to say that the end is in sight. Yay!
Chapter 23 – 3 Days Later
They say that the sane are the only ones who question their own sanity; that the insane are quite oblivious to the lack of sense their existence brings to the rest of reality.
They say that the insane are often perfectly content.
. . .
Percy Weasley didn't look up when they brought Arthur Weasley in to talk to him. He didn't answer any of their questions. He didn't look at the man whom he had called "dad" his entire life. He knew that they were fishing for answers. He knew that no one really knew what was going on.
Therefore, he kept his mouth shut, didn't look anyone in the eye, and waited to see what would happen in the meantime.
. . .
Rodney Weasley fell to one knee, barely able to conjure a bucket before he began vomiting forcefully. Thankfully, he was at home and alone.
Finally the attack passed and he looked up blearily from the mess in front of him. With a shuddery wave of his wand, he vanished the bucket and its contents and then shakily managed to make it to his feet. Leaning heavily on his dresser, he eyed himself in the mirror over it and grimaced. He looked like shit.
"Musta picked up a bug from that ol' castle," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and immediately regretted it as his vision swam in front of his eyes. "Nasty children and their bugs," he grimaced, gripping his head tightly as he tried to regain his balance.
He needed to visit Percy. He needed to talk to his barrister. He needed . . . the room swam in front of his eyes once again and he swallowed hard against the nausea that was rising in his gullet.
The bed looked rather inviting, to tell the truth. It was nice and horizontal. It didn't move when he gingerly sat down on its edge. It didn't sway when he lay down upon its surface.
Thoughts of what he needed to do quickly floated out of his grasp as sweet unconsciousness took over his mind.
Although he could not see it, the sludge had continued to grow around him as it feasted on his subconscious. It had spread down his spine, wrapping itself around the bones themselves, pushing out into the nerve endings and within twenty-four hours, it would be in his bloodstream.
It was feasting on the rot that made up the innards of Rodney Weasley's mind and body, and in turn, it was poisoning him from the inside out.
. . .
Lies? Deceit?
What Is The Weasley Family Attempting To Weasel Out Of Now?
Severus picked up his paper interestedly and began reading.
After much exhaustive research, this reporter has found conclusive evidence
that the Weasleys, one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain, are not as
innocent and lighthearted as we have been led to believe!
Indeed fair readers, the Weasleys appear to have long been embroiled in
dealings of an illicit nature. Just last week, Arthur and Perly Weasley (two
prominent members of the Weasley family) were arrested by the Ministry.
As if that weren't enough, both of these men are also Ministry workers themselves!
"They were merely brought in for questioning and nothing more!" Prime Minister
Fudge blustered in a press conference early this week.
Then why was Arthur Weasley brought in by Kingsley Shacklemolt himself? Why has
his family not heard from him at all in five days? Despite what the Ministry might
have us believe, something else is going on here.
This investigative reporter was not content to stop at these questions and has now
uncovered yet another plot within the twisted walls of Hogwarts herself!
It seems that Ronald Weasley, youngest boy of the Weasley family, has also been
attacked while at school; not so dissimilar a situation from the poor unfortunate
muggle born girl earlier this term!
Could these attacks be tied into the subsequent arrests within the Weasley family?
My sources believe so. Will we ever get answers? Is Hogwarts truly as safe as we have
been led to believe?
It seems that time will have to tell, given that the Ministry's lips are sealed!
Rita Skeeter reporting.
Severus raised an eyebrow and then proceeded to scan the rest of the newspaper carefully. He found what he was searching for at the very bottom of the sixth page, tucked in the corner beside an ad for Kwik Spell books.
An Unusual Adoption
In a move that would have seemed more unusual, if not for the boy's surprising
resorting earlier this term, Severus Snape has formally adopted the boy-who-lived.
The corner of Severus's lips raised itself in quiet salute at the tiny blurb. He then put down the paper to look across the table at his son.
"Is everything okay, Sev—I mean, Dad?" Large green eyes stared back at him and he felt his smile increase.
"For us? I'd say so, Harry."
The boy smiled back at him and he felt his innards relax. He was glad he could give the child good news for once.
Later that morning, during a specially crafted three hour planning break between his classes, Severus Snape made his way to the infirmary. In his pocket sat a missive he had received that previous evening from Miss Granger's parents, positively answering his formal request to allow him to scan her mind for evidence regarding her attacker. He was fairly positive that they had sent one to their daughter as well, but had prepared himself on the off-chance he was met with any histrionics from the girl. Namely, he had taken a mild calming potion and was carrying an even stronger one in his front inside pocket of his teaching robes.
He briskly walked through the doors of the infirmary, hearing them swing shut behind him.
"Poppy," he greeted with a nod of his head, keeping his face carefully neutral in the presence of the other students there.
"Severus," she answers quietly, walking beside him, her shorter legs moving much faster than his significantly longer ones.
They reached the hallway where the Granger girl's private room was located and Severus mentally adjusted himself one final time. Poppy knocked on the door, giving the girl inside a bit of forewarning, and then they were inside the room itself.
"Professor," Hermione Granger greeted formally, her eyes downcast as she sat upon her bed.
"Miss Granger," he answered deeply, eyeing her critically.
The girl's face was very pale, making the dark circles under her eyes appear just that much worse. Discomfort was nearly literally rolling off the girl's slightly hunched shoulders, and he realized that he needed to start this before that degraded it into full fledged panic.
"Miss Granger, would you prefer to have Madam Pomfrey present or not?"
Hermione shook her head slightly and then raised it slightly, "I'd rather she not be present, sir."
Beside him, Poppy nodded as though she had expected her dismissal, turning on her heel almost immediately.
"I'll be just in the next room," she told them both, resting her eyes on his own for a rather significant moment before leaving.
With a small flick of his wand, he conjured two comfortable chairs and arranged them beside the bed so that they faced one another.
"Miss Granger? If you would?" He directed her to sit, while he himself took the chair closest to the wall.
"Will this hurt, sir?" Her voice had none of its usual polite overtones. Indeed, he could only detect fear from her, making this a truly uncomfortable situation.
"You may have something of a headache following the experience," he answered slowly, flicking his eyes towards her face casually. "If so, you can request a potion from either myself or Madam Pomfrey."
Silence as he watched the child chew delicately on the inside of her lip.
"I mean sir," she finally bit out, holding her hands tightly together in her lap, "will it hurt to remember?"
Severus deliberately crossed his legs before looking steadily back at her.
"To remember what happened? To remember how it happened? Or to remember whom it is at fault?"
The girl in front of him shrugged and looked away, her shoulders hunched even farther down as she pulled her arms up against her chest defensively.
He narrowed his eyes and laced his fingers in his lap thoughtfully.
"I'm not one to sugarcoat situations, Miss Granger," he said at last. "But I can assure you of one thing; whatever you experience, you will not be alone whilst you do so, understand?"
"Miss Granger?" He prompted again softly when she did not answer.
"I understand sir," she finally responded, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"All I need you to do now is to look me in the eye," he paused as she finally met his own dark orbs, "and relax," he added in a soft voice.
Bloodshot eyes, he noted as he pushed past the physical and into her mind proper.
It did not surprise him in the least to find that her mind was laid out like a large library setting. The first stacks and rows were in impeccable order, showing very little wear or tear, so he pushed past them and moved closer to the more dimly sections. Every so often his eye would catch on a title and he would stop and then readjust his path if it obvious he was heading off in the wrong direction.
He came upon a section listed "Cartography" and slowed his steps to look more carefully at it. Maps of her home, of her primary school, of Hogwarts—that one he had to deliberately pry his eyes away from—and tucked away in a far dusty corner, with several books related to "Muggle Law Basics," he found a scroll labeled "Harry's Home."
Crouching down, he unrolled it to discover a nearly perfect replica of the Dursley's home, as seen through the eyes of his son. Hermione had never been to the boy's house, he would have known after all this time, but the girl had somehow managed to piece together the exact layout just from the clues she had heard spoken by the boy and likely the Weasleys.
Peering closer, he noted that there was the damnable cupboard under the stairs, circled in what he had originally thought to be blackish brown ink. Touching a finger to it, he scratched a bit of it off and brought it up to his nose to smell.
Blood.
Narrowing his eyes, he swore under his breath and stood back up, placing the scroll back where it had been, but overlaying it with several protective spells as well.
"It would be dangerous to leave that lying about in such a manner, Miss Granger," he said quietly into the silence around him.
No answer. He wasn't entirely sure he had been expecting one, but it would have helped. If he had an opportunity to do so later on, he would bring it up again when they were face to face once more.
Something squeaked to his right and he whirled around, just as a light rumble shook the large room.
"Miss Granger?" He called out in a slightly louder voice.
No answer.
His wand out, he stepped towards where he had heard the sound, keeping his eyes open for anything out of the ordinary as he moved farther back into the recesses of her mind.
"The Lady's Guide to Comportment," the title seemed to jump out at him and he paused in his search and peered closer at the shelf upon which it sat.
"'Tis not polite to stare!" A woman's voice lashed out at him from somewhere above him and he jerked backwards reflexively.
There was now a wall behind this particular shelf and he realized with a start that there was also a portrait of a severe looking woman staring down at him from it.
"The napkin should never be crumpled. Nor should it be folded neatly!" The woman said in an even louder voice, glaring angrily at him.
"And women are not to raise their voices, hmm?" He glared back, having gotten over his surprise.
"You are not welcome here! Unmarried, are you?" She sniped, eyeing his hand haughtily.
"I was invited, madam," he answered crisply. "I shall be on my way then."
He had only taken two steps before being confronted with another portrait of the same woman. This time it was hung on the side of a large shelf of books, taller than his head.
"Men are all the same! Only interested in seeing a girl's knickers!" The austere woman said; the portrait now less than an arm's length from his face.
"I beg your pardon," he shot back, affronted. "But who are you? And why are you here?"
"Typical male!" Another portrait of the same woman appeared a few rows down and he walked towards it quickly.
"Why do you say that?"
"Asking the lady of the house for her name when you have not yet seen fit to introduce your own self!"
Lady of the house? This is not Hermione Granger, surely!
"I am Professor Severus Snape. And you are?"
"Professor Snape! I thought that was you!" Another portrait called out, the same grating voice coming from farther down the aisle. He followed it and found yet another of the exact same woman.
"Hermione has told us about you certainly!"
Told us? Could this be her mother? Why on earth is the girl's mind filled with such a domineering version of her matriarch?
"Where is she?" He asked icily.
"Why should I tell you?" The portrait version of Mrs. Granger sniffed disdainfully at him. "I can see what you're thinking about, yes I can! You'd just love to get her alone and then—."
"—Madam!" He cut her off angrily. "How dare you—."
"ALL MEN ARE THE SAME!" They shouted at him. "ALL MEN ARE THE SA—," they tried to shout again, but he had wasted enough time on their inane behaviors and cut them off with a silencing spell.
Another rumble worked its way through the floorboards and he had to grab onto a shelf to keep his feet. He glanced back at the portrait nearest him only to discover it missing. He turned around and discovered that the others were gone as well.
Their sudden absence unnerved him, but he forced himself to turn his back on the now empty aisle and continue on forwards.
Abruptly he heard a loud crack and the unmistakable sound of falling books. He ran towards the sound, noticing that the bookcases here were older, less sturdy looking. Some had burn marks running down their sides, while others had more jagged edges that seemed to grab at him as he went past them. Likewise, the rows the shelves sat in were no longer even and orderly, but instead seemed to meander off in various directions; sometimes even going directly through strangely placed walls, only to come out on the other side with completely different subjects.
The floor here was carpeted, same as earlier in the library, but like the bookcases, there were scorch marks, and even had a few pools of what looked like dried blood.
Everything was also darker, more torches burnt out than lit.
He turned the corner of a particularly large bookcase, its wooden sides as gnarled as some of the oldest trees in the Forbidden Forest, and came to a complete halt at the site that greeted him.
A large canopy bed stood in the midst of this new clearing; its surface covered in lavish silks and fine linens. It was lit with an unearthly glow, causing him to blink repeatedly in the markedly different light.
"Oh, so there you are," came a softer voice from his left.
He turned his head and had to fight against dropping his jaw at the figure that was walking towards him. It was Hermione, but it was a form of her unlike any he had ever seen. Her hair was brushed out and shining healthily in the oddly bright light behind her, but that's not what drew his eyes towards her with such shock.
She was very nearly naked, her young lithe form covered only in a draping made entirely out of some kind of shimmering gauzy material that flickered as she moved.
He swallowed hard and looked resolutely at her face.
"Like what you see?" She asked him demurely, an absolutely wicked look in her eyes as she walked right up to him.
"Where are your clothes, Miss Granger?" He answered in a cold voice. The sight of her naked was turning his stomach slightly. She was his student for Merlin's sake. She wasn't even of age.
Just a child.
"Do you not care for my outfit?" She asked with a hard laugh, turning in a circle before him as though to show off her absent threads.
"I do not," he answered stiffly.
"Perhaps I should take it off then," she answered in what he was certain was meant to be a provocative manner.
"You are my student, Miss Granger," he gritted out, turning his eyes away from her ever so slightly to peer at the walls of bookcases almost completely surrounding them. "There is nothing you could do or say that would make me want you in such a lewd and lascivious manner."
Her hands touched the front of his robes and he jerked away from her roughly.
"Oh come on professor," she laughed and the sound of it chilled him. "It could be fun," she said, running her tongue over her lips devilishly.
The floor rumbled a bit, shaking loose some of the books that had become precariously perched during the other quakes. When he looked back at her, he was surprised to see that there was now bruising around her neck and chest, easily visible through her outfit, such as it was.
"Miss Granger, how did you acquire such injuries?"
"What injuries?" She answered coyly, running a hand down her chest with a smile.
He took a step closer to her and allowed her to put her hands on him once more in order to have a better look.
"Tell me child, who bit you so horrendously?"
She smiled and shook her head, just as the floor began rumbling again. This time he managed to stand his ground, but she was forced to hold onto him for balance. When the aftershocks ended, he was unsurprised to see that more bruises had sprung to the surface, and as she turned, he realized that they extended down her spine and to the back of her legs.
"Someone has hurt you. Can you not tell me who they were?"
"Oh Snapey," she sighed, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him down closer. "All's fair in love and war, right?" The look on her face was dreamy and frightening in its deceptive calm.
"This is not love," he answered vehemently. "Rape is not a part of love."
She removed her arms from his neck and he straightened once more, looking sadly down at her.
"He does love me."
"He?" Severus raised an eyebrow.
"My lover," she said with a giggle.
He stepped away from her once more and thought about how to proceed next. Where was Hermione Granger in all of this? Was this just some kind of sex addled part of her teenage mind? The real Hermione Granger had always seemed much more intelligent and down to earth than the imp who was still dancing before him, her eyes glazed as she moved to a tune only she could hear.
"What of your dreams, Miss Granger?"
She stopped and looked up at him curiously.
"What of them?"
"What if he hurts you again? What if the damage is too great for Madam Pomfrey to fix? You will miss school," he said gravely, knowing all too well how much importance she placed upon her schooling.
"My lover wouldn't hurt me. He loves me," she said with an impatient flip of her hair.
"And what of your mother?" He asked carefully.
"My mother?" Hermione asked softly, her eyes finally coming into focus for the first time in several minutes.
"Have you told her about this 'lover' of yours?" He asked with a neutral expression.
"She wouldn't understand," was the soft response.
"I daresay not."
"You don't understand. She doesn't let me have any of this, any of this!" She suddenly screeched, making the walls rattle with the strength of her outburst.
"Explain it to me," his voice calm, soothing.
"She thinks I'm her princess, her doll; something to be locked up away in the tower and then brought to life by some Prince Charming!"
Suddenly it hit him; he knew what was missing from the scene before him. Where was the fantasy section in all of this? With a mother like that, he shuddered slightly at the memory, surely the girl had to have a place to escape to within the fictional world?
"And you think otherwise?" He prompted, moving closer to one of the nearby shelves and flicking his eyes over its contents quickly. There was nothing on these shelves except magazines aimed at attracting young female girls, witches and muggles alike.
"To stand a certain way, to talk a certain way, to be a certain way; she has been after me my entire life to be the perfect young lady!"
He glanced at another shelf and was brought up short by a row of some magazine called "Seventeen." He raised an eyebrow and moved on.
"And where do your dreams fall into the mold your mother has made for you?" He asked gently, looking back into her warm brown eyes once more.
"If I have my way, Sleeping Beauty will never awake!" She spat venomously.
He could have slapped himself.
"Accio 'Sleeping Beauty,'" he called out softly. He felt something pull at his wand hand, but no book appeared.
"What do you think you're doing?" The version of Hermione Granger asked him suspiciously, coming closer to him again at long last.
"Looking for something," he murmured more to himself than to her. "Point me Sleeping Beauty," he added in a whisper.
"You don't want to talk to her!"
"Please refrain from making judgments upon my person, Miss Granger," he answered in a chiding voice.
His wand was pointed towards the bed? He shook his head and went in that direction.
"Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes! She's no fun!" The girl screeched out at him, trying to get in his way and sounding more and more like her wretched mother.
"Neither am I," he sneered, stepping past her easily and going right up to the bed itself. Now that he was closer, and his eyes were no longer blinded quite so badly by the unearthly light, he could see what he had not been able to see before.
The bed wasn't a piece of furniture. No, the bed was made out of books. More importantly, it was the missing fantasy section.
And right where the top of the mattress was, right where a pillow would go, was where he found the missing book.
"Sleeping Beauty," he breathed, reaching out and picking up the book carefully. It was very worn and clearly a much loved favorite. On its cover he found a picture of Hermione Granger and he gave a very tiny smile.
He opened the cover and watched in some awe as a bolt of light threw itself out of the pages and struck the other Hermione Granger directly in the chest. Instantly she crumpled, disappearing before her gown even hit the ground.
He looked with interest back into the book and began to read.
- 22
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