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split in two	By : sappysappysappy Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 57079 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three – Where Do These Gates Lead To?
Hermione stretched languorously with her eyes still closed. She must have forgotten to close the window last night because every breath she took felt like ice melting down her throat but she didn't care. She was under her blankets, warm in her bed and the horrible nightmare about her abduction by Mr. Malfoy to become his sex toy was just ludicrous now that she was awake, home in bed.
Blinking rapidly to try and get the frost out of her eyelashes she tried to swipe her eyes with her sleeve and sit up in bed to get away from the damp pillows. It must have been a really bad dream if she slobbered so much.
It was the oddest sensation in her life. She felt like she was sitting up in bed and yet she still seemed to be firmly bonked in her pillows and her hand couldn’t find her face.
Looking out the blurry green curtains to her side Hermione slowly put her hands to her breast and slowly went on an exodus up her torso in search of her face.
Here were her shoulders tingly and shivering slightly from her beginning panic. She made her way slowly up her neck. Everything seemed normal enough so far; obviously she had proven to herself once again that she was a klutz in anything physical or coordinately trying. After all she still haven't touched a broomstick since her first year at school, thanking god her mother used a vacuum cleaner instead.
Suddenly her hands stopped. One second she was caressing her uneasy neck the next she felt, nothing. Trying again and again desperately to find any vestige of her head, even her hateful bushy hair, she started to wonder if her house ghost, the nearly headless Nick will feel jealous of her total headlessness. At least he had a head. She would probably wonder blindly from place to place bumping into everything.
Surely this couldn't be happening. It had to be another nightmare to add a farce relief to the horrible terror and humiliation of the last one. The one she thought she woke up from. She will just pinch her cheek real hard and wake up back in bed resting hale and whole, no pieces missing, back at home. She should never have complained about having a boring vacation.
Suddenly she realized she couldn’t pinch her cheek if she didn't have a head at all and started crying in horror and despair. It was always the little things that got you. Taking deep calming breaths she tried to behave like her father: calmly, looking at the situation from all possible angles, never losing hope until she was certain the situation was truly hopeless and even than try and make the best of it.
What did she know? She woke up feeling refreshed lying in her soft bed covered to her neck in fluffy blankets. The air was crispy cold burning down her throat and her pillows felt damp and uncomfortable. Her pillows felt damp and uncomfortable, and her eyes were frozen shut. Her eyes popped open to see the trees to her side. And she listened in wonder to the sounds of chirping birds and took a deep breath through her nose smelling the divine odours of damp grass crisping slowly in the morning sun.
She didn’t lose her head! It was here, with her, and she will love and cherish it so long as they both still lived. What was happening? Trying to look around without being able to turn her head, Hermione could see the forest, lurking darkly to the side and just behind her, or perhaps better call it forehead-wise she could see a piece of ornate stone arch.
The Hogwarts gate! So it wasn’t a dream after all. She remembered now her last moments in that room of seduction and lechery, trying to Apparate away with all her might and the tearing sensation she felt as that thrice damned ankle chain wouldn’t let her go. She must have Splinched. Now that didn’t sound as bad as being torn in half now did it? People got Splinched everyday and the ministry officials took care of it, just like that. Surely Splinching wasn’t as bad as say, spending months as a stone statue or hiding from everyone, fearing she would stay a half-cat freak for the rest of her life. Yes, she shouldn’t worry too much. She will ask Professor Dumbledore for his help and everything will be fine. Now all she had to do was go into Hogwarts caste, head for the ugly gargoyle, utter a sickeningly sweet password and tell the Headmaster that she could use a little help. How hard could that be?
After half an hour passed by, she stared longingly at the castle gates just on the edge of her vision once more. Her eyes were sending daggers at her brain for directing them time after time in these uncomfortable angles and she was hardly any closer to the gates after all this effort. She now knew that even with the half a neck she still had she would never pass the meter per hour speed limit in this pitiful existence and when she tried to turn her head it was her neck that flopped around instead.
She was dimly aware that her upper faculties’ Sisyphean struggles had translated themselves to the rest of her body and she now had a very painful left ankle after she slammed it into some hard object that she supposed must have been the bedside table.
It woke up all the agony she suffered last night and now every time she tried to move, small hard hands would restrain her back to bed. She was starting to get a bit uncomfortable trying not to lose control and soil herself in her bed. She had to do something now or she would have to admit to herself that she had no control over her body. Sheepishly she fisted her hands into her groin trying to ignore the tickling sensation of the ephemeral gown against her bursting bladder and tried to get up and head for where she thought the loo might be.
After three frustrating tries, the message finally seemed to pass through and quickly she was stripped naked and deposited on the blessed toilet-seat. After that was finally behind her, Kinky seemed to think that a bath was in order and Hermione closed her eyes losing herself in the pleasant sensations.
If only she had a house elf on this side. She tried to summon Dobby earlier but with no fingers to snap a summons with all she could do was shout his name out and that had proven unnerving after the first enthusiastic minute. She was outside the edges of Hogwarts protective magic wards and also outside the elfish hearing range apparently, but quite close to the edges of the Forbidden Forest and her panicked shrieks to Dobby could summon a different company than the one she had in mind.
She still had the brains to shut up before it was too late but there were still quite a few dark specks marring the late morning blue sky. One vulture even had the temerity to land close by and hop cautiously closer, to the eager and encouraging stares of his peers in the sky. She only managed to shoo him off by spitting in his eye, but that was a close call.
Her glare seemed to be enough so far to hold them off but it didn’t seem to do the trick against the industrious flies and ants that started fighting for the rights to feast on her itchy eyes as the day got warmer.
She couldn’t blink too much or the vultures would come in force but the inexorable slow tide of insects seemed almost worse than the relatively swift promised death at the claws of the mobbing vultures.
At the same time, she could feel herself being soothed by the most wonderful, clever small hands in a massage to top all other massages. She could see it in her mind. She was lying naked on her belly with the helpful Kinky sitting on her buttocks, pouring aromatic potions and rubbing healing balms and lotions into her hot skin with the room around them foggy with hot vapors. She was lured into false serenity and she could feel her eyes losing their hard glare from time to time and closing for longer and longer intervals.
What was the point anyway? It was obvious there was no possible escape from her gory fate and she might as well embrace it now instead of ending being dragged screaming hair by bloody hair into its gruesome beak. Giving in, she wondered what her parents and friends will think happened to her. They will probably all believe blindly that she was killed by raving deatheaters in some pointless duel like Sirius Black did.
Maybe years in the future Fang, Hagrid's faithful hound-dog, will find an errant jawbone holding a few teeth with a perfect filling in one, by the front gates. Would Hagrid recognize it when the wagging Fang will bring it back to their cabin for a good chew or would her end go unnoticed by anyone? At least it will be with a friend like Hagrid and not in some side alley of the notorious Knockturn alley, as she feared last night. As she started falling deeper and deeper into sleep she wondered idly if the gashes the vultures will inflict on her neck will be sufficient to make her bleed copiously in Malfoy’s bed. Even if she would, the diligent house elves will in all likelihood clean it so quickly and thoroughly that Mr. Malfoy probably never even know that anything happened. Still, the grand gesture appealed to her much suppressed Gryffindor sensibilities.
Suddenly the vultures veered off, some taking flight from somewhere close by, crying with frustrated outrage, and promising to show no mercy next time they met. Hermione, woken from her macabre fantasies of all the possible aspects of her impending demise by this sudden commotion looked wildly around fearing she was only getting out of the frying pan to fall ignominiously into the consuming flames of the fire of a possible worse fate if that was at all possible under the circumstances.
There was a swish of robes and than a shiny black boot came into her line of sight and a familiar smooth, mocking voice came from far up above her, like the voice of God, mocking his paltry creations from high up in the heavens above. "I do believe I know this little bush. The headmaster will be displeased to hear that his clean school-gates are run over with filthy wild bushes. It will be my personal duty to get rid of it and never bother the headmaster with such petty concerns. Perhaps I will ask Filch to clean the rest of this road when I get back to school."
"Please, Professor Snape, you've got to help me!" cried Hermione hurriedly straining her eyes to look at his pale pasty face.
"It speaks! Will wonders never cease? All that is missing is a little fire. Perhaps since I am a wizard and not some stray sheepherder I will light the fire myself. It is a bit chilly this morning after all."
"No. Please, Professor. It's me, Hermione Granger. Will you please take me to Headmaster Dumbledore?" She knew he was only mocking her, just like he always did no matter how hard she tried to please him in class. But if a little self-debasement would get her into the castle a little faster, then so be it. She was impatient for him to finish his inevitable bout of snide and hurtful remarks already and start being the row-model good professor she knew he was deep down inside.
"Why, Miss Granger. What on earth is your head doing at our gates?" he asked, bending on one knee to stare at her in an exaggerated mock surprise. “Most little girls have their head in the clouds from my experience. Or was it in their knickers? No matter. To every rule there is an exception, a boring one in this case. Well, have a pleasant day. Unlike some people, I have plenty of work to do and precious little time to fit it into.” And with that said, he stood up, brushing his knees of any possible bit of dirt and took a step in Hogsmead’s direction.
He was leaving her. Just like that. No house point deductions, no expulsion promises and no detentions. Couldn’t he for once in his life take her to detention? Surely he wouldn’t leave her alone with the vultures? It was only a petty jab at her friend Harry through her. In a moment he would turn back and grumblingly carry her into Professor Dumbledore’s office.
As she heard the soft clattering of his retreating footsteps on the stony road, her resolve crumbled and she yelled “Professor Snape, Sir, don’t leave me. Please.” Her voice broke down into silent sobs. Why was he so cruel to her? What did she ever do to deserve his hatred?
The footsteps stooped. “I suppose you will tell me that if our roles were reversed and I was lying helpless at your feet with danger all around, you would have stopped and helped me. Is that not so, Miss Granger?”
She licked her lips. There was something in his tone that made her feel a little nervous. Still, she always prided herself on her high morals and compassion for the weak and needful. If he wanted to mock her for it, so be it. “Of course I would, Sir.”
“Well, well. How very noble of you to say so. And how would you imagine this theoretical situation we speak of to be like? Just so that I will know when I can expect your help in my time of need, you understand.” He sneered.
Hermione was utterly confused “Sir?” what did he want from her?
“Suppose I was by some unfortunate incident rendered unconscious and wandless. What would you have done in such an instance? Helped me back to my feet with some Enervate spell and returned my missing wand, I presume?”
“Yes.” She answered him slowly trying to read something from his expressionless face. What were they talking about?
“Then I imagine that if such a situation were to occur while an escaped, dangerous death-eater were somewhere nearby, someone who could have killed me with a flick of his hand just for the fun of it, that would not have stopped you from helping me back to my feet?”
“Of course.” Was he hinting at his own dubious past? Would another death-eater really be all that dangerous to him? But from her memories of the battle at the Department of Mysteries, Death-Eaters didn’t seem to help each other out of hard corners. So her answer was obvious and self-evident.
“Or let us imagine that I was lying as I said unconscious and without any means to protect myself and there was a dangerous, hungry, raving monster, one that could snap my head off without even losing its breath. Would you have spared a moment of your time to revive me or would you have run off to better places?”
“I would most certainly have helped you. What kind of monster do you think I am?” exclaimed the now incensed Hermione.
“Of course, of course. That would be very unGryffindor of you to run away and leave a fellow human in such a situation. I am certain someone of your unquestionable high morals would never descend to such depths of moral depravity.”
“Yes.” How long was he going to drag this on? She tried to puff an annoying ant from her lips and wished she could do the same for the ones in her ears and hair.
“Now let us imagine, as I said that I was, what was that again, unconscious and wandless. Let us say it was night and I was somewhere outside and you decided to bring me back to the school building and into the hospital wing presumably. Would you have used a Mobilicorpus spell to try and prevent further damage from occurring to me on the way or would you have dragged me across a rock-strewn field where you could have conveniently bumped my head into them on your way?”
“I would have used the damned Mobilicorpus spell. I am not some sadistic wretch who would entertain myself in my meaningless, empty life by torturing and terrorizing helpless kids that I was given responsibility over.” Hermione snarled, totally incensed with his implied, unbelievable, veiled insults.
“I see. Well as I recall, two years ago you did all of these things, did you not Miss Granger? Not to mention rendering me into such a state in the first place?” he smiled at her coldly, his eyes burning icicles, his teeth dirty frosted snow framed by his red wormlike lips. “And I suppose you forgot all about it in the morning when good old Albus Dumbledore pardoned it all and heaped praises and lemon drops on you, I have no doubt, for your assistance in sneaking off a pesky flea-ridden dog for precious Harry Potter.”
Hermione paled parchment white and was rendered utterly speechless. She HAD forgotten it and never really thought about it since except to feel relief not to be expelled for hexing her teacher. Surely she was not the heartless cruel monster he portrayed her out to be. She wanted to say something to defend herself to him, but “Silencio!
“I think I heard enough of your whining and pompous lies and insults for one day. You will feel the other end of the boot now. Perhaps I will find enough compassion and pity by the time I return from Hogsmead to pick you up. I suppose anything is possible.” And whistling a merry tune he walked out of sight.
Hermione tried not to think about what he said. After all didn’t he threaten to give an innocent man to the dementors that night, to condemn him to a fate worse than death without even bothering to hear him out?
Yes. And he tried to manhandle the goodhearted, friendly DADA Professor in such a mean and nasty manner and treated him like a wild and dangerous animal without any right to freedom and self-dignity calling him repeatedly a monster.
She was almost kissed by a bloody dementor for Christ’s sake. The dementors, they had come to fulfil his promise to kill their innocent victim. How could he expect her to remember anything else of that horrible night after that?
Besides, how could she have worried for his safety when the first thing she heard on waking up was his snide, cruel voice telling the compliant minister that they were just confused little babies and what a great idea it was to give poor Sirius the horrible dementor’s kiss in gleeful self-satisfactory tone.
The next thing she remembered of him was hearing him sound quite deranged with spiteful hate at losing his pray after they got Sirius out of the fray and boldly accusing them of the deed when all the evidence in the world pointed towards their total innocence.
Would he condemn her to death for one small mistake, done under trying circumstances after all the good she did the rest of her life? Could he not be the bigger man and forgive and forget it ever happened? As the sun climbed higher in the skies and the vultures returned to their former posts she admitted to herself that he was obviously exactly the sort of vengeful, petty man that would do just that.
Maybe she deserved it. Maybe he was right about her after all. Did she ever risk herself for the sake of her high and vaunted ideals? The only time she could think of was the trip to the Department of Mysteries to save the supposedly tortured Sirius. But perhaps that was only peer-pressure from her friends and a desire to take some action after all against the Death Eaters and their Dark-Lord in general and against the hateful toady Umbridge in particular.
Her behaviour towards her professor that night was unforgivable. She could still remember her slight queasiness that night, returning through the tunnel from the Shrieking Shack and hearing the careless snickers of Black at her back as her professor’s body was repeatedly bumped into the walls with hollow thuds without any protest passing her lips. She was too angry at the time with his brutal and unprofessorish behaviour to think about anything else.
Well it was too late to do anything about it now. He wouldn’t care to hear her apologies anyway. It would be like some kind of reverse life-debt paid for with her blood and there won’t be any more Miss Grangers for him to torture for her mistakes like he did with Harry for all these years in a misguided attempt to punish his dead father.
She wondered if he would smile one of his cold disdainful smiles at her remains when he will finally return to the school before he will kick her to the side of the road. She wouldn’t be too surprised and it looked like the ugly bloody birds finally got the guts to land around her and hop closer and closer. Her throat was too raw and dry to spit at them again and her voice was already stolen away from her. She felt a lock of her bushy dirtied hair pulled painfully from behind promising to herself that she wouldn’t cry. She blinked furiously to clear away the mistiness from her vision and tried not to shut them close against the cawing, bickering, bald, death-birds crowding around her, ready to give her their own special kiss. She will not end a yellow Hufflepuff.
Just then a cold “Accio head” Sounded through the noise and a disorienting moment later she found herself painfully held by her hairs in front of a large and ugly nose. Those worm-lips quirked in some unidentifiable expression before she was unceremoniously dumped into a bag full of Scurvy grass, Lovage, wormwood and a mélange of other things she couldn’t recognize at the moment.
She could faintly hear his voice, muffled from without telling her that perhaps he could use a change in his jar collection of office decorations and that he thought her bushy hair would look quite fetching floating in the new jar he just bought.
Hermione was too exhausted with all the shocks and near-death experiences she had gone through in the past twenty-four hours to try and process the meaning of his words. She closed her eyes and sniffed the aromatic air around her. Gradually she was lulled into deep and dreamless sleep by the swirling, soothing murmur of his voice and the gentle swaying of the bag.

~*~*~*~
Author's notes:

A big thank you to Charlotte for her lovely review. I hope you will like this new chapter. Smut will be forthcoming probably in the next chapter.
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