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Memories of Deception	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 20868 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Memories of Deception
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9.
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
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- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
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- 60-60
- 61-61
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- 63-63
- 64-64
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- 66-66
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- 69-69
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- 72-72
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- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
- 78-78
- 79-79
- 80-80
- 81-81
- 82-82
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- 85-85
- 86-86
- 87-87
- 88-88
- 89-89
- 90-90
- 91-91
- 92-92
- 93-93
- 94-94
- 95-95
- 96-96
- 97-97
- 98-98
- 99-99
- 100-100
- 101-101
- 102-102
- 103-103
- 104-104
- 105-105
- 106-106
- 107-107
- 108-108
- 109-109
- 110-110
- 111-111
- 112-112
- 113-113
- 114-114
- 115-115
- 116-116
- 117-117
- 118-118
- 119-119
- 120-120
- 121-121
- 122-122
- 123-123
- 124-124
- 125-125
- 126-126
- 127-127
- 128-128
- 129-129
- 130-130
- 3
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- 5
Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Hermione firmly twisted the handle of the door that led to Snape's bedroom. The room that appeared before her surprised her and at the same time was much as she expected it to be. It differed from the rest of his chambers expect his library in that it was comfortable and warm. A large four poster bed with thick drapes, silk sheets and luxurious blankets sat with the headboard resting against the wall on her left. Antique nightstands stood either side, simple but well-made in dark wood and very elegant. A patterned rug lay across the polished wooden floorboards, covering most of the room, but falling short of each wall by about 2 feet. It looked old, but seemed barely worn, and if it was not a real Persian rug, it was a very good imitation.

The rest of the furniture was also antique, and upon closer inspection turned out to be of a set with the nightstands. A large wardrobe stretched most of the way along the far wall, while a dressing table, empty except for 2 tall lit candles in their holders at either end, stood to her left along the wall near the door. A wooden chair with arms and a cushioned seat and back was pushed under it. She noticed the two nightstands were also empty except for a candlestick each. Most of the light came from a large candelabra hanging from the centre of the high ceiling.

The colour of the walls and the furnishings was the main surprise. Hemione had expected to see the green and gold of Slytherin alongside the black that she had known she would find. The various fabrics around the room were predominantly black, though of varying textures. But the walls were a light biscuit colour, almost golden where the candlelight reflected off them. There was gold too in the carpet, as well as a hint of a royal blue picked out here and there in the pattern. The bed, she was almost relieved to see, was decked out only in black. She almost chuckled at the thought of Snape sleeping under gold and red sheets. In many ways the man could be so completely predictable. Whereas at other times he takes everyone by surprise.

Looking around the room she frowned. There didn't seem to be anything of a personal nature anywhere. The furniture was luxurious and probably cost more Galleons than she could imagine, but the room was stripped bare of anything that would hint at the personality behind the man's cold exterior. Maybe he just doesn't have one, she thought snarkily. There was a fireplace opposite the bed but it was unlit, and while the bedroom wasn't as chilly as the rest of the apartment, she was shoeless and only wearing a thin dress.

She stepped up to the bed and straightened the blankets, running her hands over the fabric and wishing that she could just crawl under the sheets for just a few minutes until her extremities lost the biting feeling that had existed in them since waking up that morning. The thought of sneaking into Snape's bed for any reason made her feel a bit ill again. It was a rather lovely bed though, the sort of bed she imagined many teenage girls would fantasise their first time to be in, after a beautiful, romantic evening with the man of their dreams. Despite never really having dwelt too much on the subject herself, Hermione would never have imagined that her first time would take place pressed up against a wall by a man she hated with her whole heart. It hurt a lot less than I expected, she pondered. The information see had seen on the subject had led her to believe that there would be a lot of pain the first time. How can I still feel so calm about what he did?

Feeling a current of slightly warmer air at her back, she turned to the fireplace. There was a faint warmth coming from the small heap of embers. She decided to take advantage of it and start by cleaning the fireplace.

She grabbed the brush and shovel that were standing on one side of the hearth and brushed up all the flakes of ash that the fire had spat out the night before. She finished and stood to wipe down the mantelpiece, keeping her feet on the hearth as close to the remains of the fire as she could, wriggling her toes in the heat.

With dismay she realised her hands were streaked with soot and it had begun the rub off of the cloth she was using. She needed to wash them before she could continue. Turning, she spotted two previously unnoticed doorways on the far side of the bed. Deciding that one of them was likely to be a bathroom, she pushed open the closest one, pulling up short as she stepped inside.

She was stood in a large potions lab, far bigger than the space between the doorways should allow. It was windowless, as were the rest of the rooms she had found herself in so far. Two long wooden benches sat parallel to each other, taking up the centre of the room. Upon them were several full cauldrons with the contents placed under stasis spells. Hermione peered into each one. She couldn't smell the fumes because of the spells, but they were all slightly different shades of the same colour and she wondered if they were not perhaps varieties of the same potion. It looked like Snape was doing some research and trying to create something new.

Spotting the cupboards covering the far wall her curiosity got the better of her and she decided to have a quick look as she was interested to see what rare ingredients Snape had stored away. They were locked, and disappointed Hermione turned away, only for her eyes to fall upon a pile of sheets sitting on the end of the bench by the closest cauldron. Before she had really thought about what she was doing she reached for them, intrigued at the thought of reading anything written by such a talented potions master. Maybe they would give her a clue as to the nature of the potions under stasis.

Scanning the page quickly, she frowned. It made no sense. The words were utter nonsense. She rubbed her temple absentmindedly at the small ache there, and continued to try and decipher the words. She didn't notice the pain building behind her eyes until her vision started to go fuzzy and the words began to swim on the page. Shit! He'd warned her against reading any of his papers. Sometimes you're too bloody curious for your own good, she scolded herself.

Dropping the sheets messily back on to the surface of the bench she moved to leave. The sudden movement made her head spin even worse and she put up her hands in front of her, felling her way along the bench to where she remembered the door to be. As she staggered through the doorway she went headfirst into the solid figure that had appeared there abruptly. She stepped back and almost fell down but hands grabbed her shoulders, gripping tightly, holding her upright.

"How did you get in here?" He barked at her, shaking her hard. "Tell me, quick! How did you get through the wards?" He was almost frantic in his desire to understand. She peered up at him, grey flecks clouding her vision, and opened her mouth to reply.

She struggled to speak, the agony in her head almost drowning out all sense of where she was. "I…. I….just…. the door…. opened it." The lights seemed to be getting dimmer and she closed her eyes, not seeing Snape's face blanch whiter than usual at her words, his eyes jerking up to look at the potions with a worried frown.

Satisfied that his work seemed untouched he looked back down at the limp young woman in his arms. "Foolish girl," he spat, although it seemed to lack his usual venom. "I wondered how long it would take you to stick your nose into something you shouldn't. You've actually managed to disappoint the low expectations I had. I stupidly assumed you would managed to keep out of trouble for at least two hours."

Hermione gave no answer, but moaned and swayed on her feet, despite his hold on her. Snape stared down impassively at her for a moment, before seeming to come to a decision, and let her go. She managed to stay up for a few seconds before slumping to the floor. He smirked down at her as she pressed her hands to her head. She opened her eyes one last time to see him step over her before the pain overcame her and she passed out.

When Hermione awoke she was back in her bed, the pain in her head a dull memory. Her limbs were stiff and cold, the lumpy mattress leaving her with an aching back and sore neck. She rolled over, wandering what time it was, but the windowless room gave her no clue. She climbed slowly out of bed, winced as her bare feet touched the chilled floorboards and pulled them back up under her to sit crossed legged.

Touching her forehead tenderly she tried to recall the last few minutes before everything had gone blank, but it was difficult to remember much more than the sight of his furious face so close above hers and his snarling lips. She shuddered at the thought. I wonder how I got into my bed. Snape had probably floated her there with a spell and just dumped her. How long have I been here? She decided to get up and find out.

However, when she tried to turn the handle, she found the door locked. Feeling trapped and claustrophobic she hammered against the thick wood, willing to brave Snape's displeasure as long as she could escape her dark room. The door never opened and eventually she gave up, turning her back to it and sliding down to the floor. Resting her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees she began to sob quietly, praying for this all to be over, and to be free of this place, and him.
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Memories of Deception