Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Vespertine	By : BrownRecluse Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 3610 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All characters and elements that comprise the wonderful world of Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling. I’m just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun. Also, I used to be known as BrownRecluse, but a name change was long overdue. ;D

Chapter List
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The vaulted ceiling imploded with a shudder. Its great arches crashed to the floor, bashing the toppled founders to bits and sending up thick clouds that filled the space with an acrid, suffocating grit. Meaty crackling sounds filled the air and the wind lashed her back with stony shards. Choking, eyes streaming, Hermione pushed on, struggling for purchase over buckling flagstones and piles of debris that seemed to spring up at every step to catch her feet. As she glanced at her intended destination, her heart sank. She should have reached Severus by now! Perhaps the floor did have a mind of its own. The path that should have been leading her straight to him now seemed longer than she’d thought. The fissure at its end seemed narrower and the light within bleared a cheerless grey-green. The smoke could account for the dimness, but maybe something in its noxious odor was causing hallucinations.

The sickening realization almost stopped her in her tracks. Stumbling forward, Hermione shielded her mouth and nose with one arm while crying out to him in her mind, Help me, Severus!

You’re almost here, his voiced purred inside her head. Just a few more steps and we’ll be together.

Together. The word caused more tears than the burning smoke. Ruined or not, the Founders’ Courtyard was still a sanctuary, one even he could not breach. No, don’t you see? She called to him again, Fred and the ghosts—they’ve harnessed the castle’s all-source and cast a jinx. The closer I try to get to you, the further you move away! I don’t know how to stop it. Help me!

They have no power over you, especially Weasley, he said, his tone edged with unmistakable bitterness. Hermione, just take my hand. I’m right here!

Wanting to believe him, Hermione reached out again as she staggered through the smoke, but with each of her now-tentative steps forward, his silhouette grew smaller. I can’t feel you, Severus, she said, groping for him. I can barely see you!

“Enough of this borrowed trickery! I’m coming for you!”

“Severus, no!”

The instant he stepped through the fissure, sparks erupted, bursting into a sheet of impenetrable flame. Howling in disgust, he pulled back. As the fiery wall disappeared, Hermione watched him shrink into the distance, carried away as if caught on some terrible reverse treadmill that she inadvertently controlled.

A treadmill, yes!

That gave her an idea. She stopped, hoping that absence of motion would reverse the spell’s effects, but when she looked at Severus again, he remained exactly as far from her as he’d been before.

Jets of light erupted from the fissure, each producing curses. “Blast it, they’ve conjured a rebounding charm,” he hollered through the thickening smoke. “I can’t break it!”

Tendrils of smoke closed in around her. No longer ethereal, wisps began eddying about her arms and legs with palpable intention. Her hand, now clammy, still held her wand, but Hermione knew that casting any defensive spells would just make things worse.

Wind shrieked and the floor rippled again, forcing her forward. As she sidestepped another pile of suddenly sprouting debris, the path around it brought her close to the now-open edge of the balustrade. Looking down, Hermione could not see the ground—or what rational thought dictated should have been the ground beyond the courtyard.

Then, another idea came to her. Like the last, it was one almost ridiculous in its simplicity, but she had to do something and sooner rather than later. The longer she fought against the jinx, the weaker she’d grow. Already, her head pounded, her lungs burned and every muscle in her body ached. Allowing herself one last glance at the now-tiny figure of Severus, one last hope of being with him, Hermione leapt over the broken balustrade. The ground lurched again, rising in a stony wave to block her escape. Instead of letting it bash her back into the courtyard, with the last of her strength, she grappled its rocky crest and vaulted over it into the fog.

~~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~~

Ash spewed across the room, disgorging three riders on the hearthstone of the Headmaster’s Suite. Skidding across the floor on his stomach, Hagrid crash-landed against the coffee table, toppling both it and the remains of what might have been a very large and intricate ice sculpture, much to his chagrin and Fang’s delight. Stepping daintily out behind them, Minerva turned back to the mantle and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

“Erhm, sorry about that, Perfesser.” Hagrid righted the table, which, except for a few scratches, was still serviceable. Then, looking up at Minerva, he said, “Where we goin’ now?”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” she said.

“You think they caught our updraft?” Hagrid heaved himself to his feet and joined her at the fireplace.

“You did use a great deal of Floo Powder; there’s bound to be residual, but only one way to know for certain.” Arm cocked, she stared at the dark interior, waiting for the telltale crimson glow.

“Odd the Ministry had nothin’ to say about our usin’ it just now, innit?” He peered over her shoulder.

“I’d say Arthur’s covered his tracks quite well,” she said, eyes never leaving her intended target. As its stone back flushed scarlet, she motioned to him with her free hand. “Stand back, Hagrid. You and Fang might want to go over by the door. I’ve never done this before and I’m not sure if it will work.”

Salazar, who’d taken a keen interest in the latest turn of events, said, “You might want to stand to one side yourself, Headmistress.”

“Obstructing your view am I?”

“Not at all. But if I’m correct in my assumption, that’s quite a force you’re about to create.”

“For once, he might have a point, Perfesser. C’mon Fang, you can finish that over here,” he said. Snatching up the block of ice, he coaxed the Neapolitan to a safer spot in the gallery and then returned to Minerva’s side.

“I’m not moving until I see the whites of Arthur’s eyes,” she said, grimly, one hand tightening around the Floo Powder.

The licking flames multiplied, becoming a roaring red sheet, although the howling within it almost drowned the sound of its vortex completely. Hot gusts buffeted Minerva, their sheer force threatening to knock her off her feet.

Salazar sprang from his seat. “Take hold of her, man!”

“Yes, I think you’d better, Hagrid,” she said. “Here they come!”

As Hagrid’s enormous hands tightened around her waist, two forms appeared within the Floo’s maelstrom: one clawing frantically and the other desperately defending himself against those blows. She always hated the Floo, Minerva thought, and while she’d never been one given to schadenfreude, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling at Arthur’s current misfortune. Only when he turned and made eye contact, only when she saw the depth of fury in his eyes—oh, and if looks could kill!—did she heave the handful of powder in his face and scream, “To the Dungeons!”

New flames whirled about Arthur and Sybill, obliterating them and casting them downwards rapidly with a hollow ‘Whoosh!’

Clutching one of the fireplace’s massive, carved corbels, Minerva watched, transfixed by the vacuum created by their sudden departure. Its force threatened to tear the hair from her head and her skirts from their seams; the door flew open with a bang; the walls trembled violently, setting portrait frames swinging and knocking; books toppled from their shelves and sheaves of loose paper flapped about the room like a haphazard headless flock. Shards of shattered porcelain and glass soon joined their number, filling the air with lethal shrapnel. Fang dove beneath the nearest trestle table for refuge. Several throw pillows and the coffee table now became airborne projectiles, as did the couch, which groaned and began juddering across the carpet on its stumpy, clawed feet.

“Get down!” Hagrid yanked Minerva to safety, seconds before the Floo’s hungry maw sucked it down.

The flames guttered and the roaring ceased. Papers fluttered to the ground, portraits stopped creaking, and the room would have fallen into silence, except for the rain pinging against the windows and Fang’s soft whimpering.

“Oh, yer alright, you big coward,” Hagrid said, softly. “Oh, and you, Perfesser?”

“Fine, fine.” Disentangling herself, Minerva sat up and straightened her spectacles.

“The Dungeons? Why, you sent ‘em straight to Slytherin! Why didn’t you pack ‘em both off to the Ministry?” Hagrid asked as he heaved himself to his feet.

“I was afraid that would endanger too many innocent people. An interval in the Dungeons will give Arthur a chance to cool his heels. At least one of them can swim. Oh, thank you,” she said, taking his hand. Rising, she shook her skirts and brushed off her sleeves. “Besides, Slytherin’s the absolute last place in the castle where Severus would be.”

“It ain’t him that worries me.” Hagrid tugged at his beard.

“I know it’s not an ideal plan but it should allow just enough time to send for help and a head start on our search Hermione. Assuming she’s still in the Room of Requirement will make our task that much easier.” Hurrying over to her desk, she pulled a sheet of parchment, a quill and inkpot from a drawer. “Right now, I need you to go find Mr. Filch. Tell him—tell him—as much as you think he can—well, as much as he needs to know. The two of you can—”

“Needs to know? Do you hear yerself, Perfesser? Merlin’s beard! If Dumbledore were here—”

“But he’s not.” Her nib stopped scratching. “Don’t look at me like that, Hagrid,” she said, looking up to meet his angry glare. “You’ve seen for yourself what Arthur’s intentions are and I hate to think what would happen if Filch were to accidentally cross paths with him. Unless you fancy adding a werewolf caretaker to your cadre of magical creatures, Filch needs to know about Sybill for his own safety—and don’t worry, the Room will let him in, provided he’s with another wizard. I don’t know how well that map of Arthur’s will work when it’s sopping wet, but once we’re inside, we won’t appear on it in any case, which works all the more to our advantage. I’ll join you both after I’ve sent this Urgent Owl.” The quill bobbed as she resumed her writing.

“S’pose you know best, but I still don’t like it,” he said. “C’mon Fang, let’s get on with it.” He trudged to the door, grumbling to himself.

Once he’d gone, Minerva carefully folded the parchment and went to the window. Night was falling as fast as the rain and fog obscured the grounds. Taking her wand from her sleeve, she rapped three times on the glass with its tip and then opened the window. A small owl whose feathers matched color of the dusky sky flew through the opening. Alighting on the wide sill, it snapped up the square of parchment in its beak and then waited, regarding Minerva with its bright yellow eyes. Leaning in, she whispered a single name.

A name that was not Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The owl nodded, as if seeming to understand, and then turning, swooped off into the night.

~~o0o~~o0o~~o0o~~

Hermione landed with a splash, waist-deep in a pitch-blackness whose chill assaulted her with an unwanted host of dank odors: rotting parchment, wet wool, mold and mildew. Overlaying these, riding the waves that slip-sloshed against the unseen walls of wherever she’d landed, was another smell, although this one was far more pleasant and oddly familiar. She felt it curling beneath her nostrils, teasing her with warm hints of amber and cloves, earthy and comforting, yet esoteric as incense.

It intensified, awakening visions of a letter in her hand and the folds of robes forgotten in armoire in an empty room. It was his smell and a part of her knew that he was near her now, so near. “Severus,” she whispered. “Are you here?”

Strong arms encircled her, lifting her, pulling her close. “Good thing you jumped when you did. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose you,” he said.

“For a moment, I thought so too,” she said, nuzzling against him. “Where are we, anyway?”
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Vespertine