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Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 129854 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 29
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: I'm not used to these short chapters. But I think where it lacks in length it makes up for in poignancy...at least...I hope it does!
My wrist (wristy, as dubbed by the lovely MrsHH) is still messed up, hence the longish wait to update. Going to see the doctor for my CAT scan results on Tuesday, so we shall see what the hell is wrong.
Everyone wanted to see how Hermione was going to react, and I do hope I did it justice because her and Severus's situation is not conventional by any means. And the truth is, you can't turn love off and on like a light switch, no matter how dire the circumstances. Hopefully I've conveyed that, and I must profusely thank my lovely alpha and friend, CrMediaGal, for giving this a once-over to make sure that I got every point across.
*teardrop* Thank you alll soooo much for the reviews! I cannot tell you how much I appreciate them all. So here are a round of cookies, brownies and cake for everyone.
Alrighty, once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!

"I wonder if it's safe to leave yet," Luna mused, looking down at Flitwick who was still unconscious. "We can't stay here all night."
Hermione sighed and peered across the dark room. Even though Snape's office was draughty, she and Luna had been apprehensive about lighting the hearth for fear of being discovered.
"I know," Hermione mumbled, casting Lumos and pulling the Marauder's Map into her lap. It took her a few minutes to find Harry's dot, but it was next to Hagrid's and Ginny's, and they were somewhere near the Astronomy Tower. Ron and Neville's dots showed to be within the area marked 'hospital wing' and were barely moving. It seemed as if all the student dormitories and teacher's offices had been abandoned, which would have been occupied with sleeping inhabitants on any other night.
Hermione hadn't looked to see if the Death Eater's names had showed up on the map, but reasoned if they were still inside Hogwarts, members of the Order would probably be fighting them. So unless the map was lying, chances were it was safe for them to leave Snape's office.
"I think we can go now," she told Luna. "Let's keep quiet, though. Just in case."
After conjuring a stretcher and levitating Flitwick onto it, Hermione used her wand to keep it afloat while Luna walked ahead, making sure that their path was clear. The castle was shown to be in various states of ruin. Every other step, both girls had to dodge large pieces of rubble, fallen tapestries, and sconces that had most likely been blasted from the walls. One portrait was found lying facedown, and apparently heard their footsteps, because it became quite indignant and made a loud fuss, demanding to be picked back up.
Luna ignored the painting's blustering, which came from an elderly monocled wizard with tufts of white hair sticking out on either side of an otherwise bald head. She calmly magicked it back into its spot on the wall. Even though the oil-canvassed being was still in a foul mood, it offered the oddly serene student a gruff 'thank you' as he lifted his monocle to peer down at the professor floating on a stretched between the girls.
"Miss Granger!" a harried-looking Professor McGonagall spluttered when she saw Hermione and Luna pushing their way into the crowded hospital wing with Flitwick leading the day. She had thrown a tartan plaid robe over her matching nightgown, both of which were ripped in multiple places, and her long black hair was unbound and hanging down her back instead of being confined to its usual tight bun. Dirt and graze-marks were across her face, but otherwise she appeared unharmed. "Miss Lovegood; are you alright? What happened to Filius?"
"We're fine, professor," Luna answered as Madam Pomfrey hurried next to her to take over the stretcher. "Professor Snape said that Professor Flitwick had passed out and we should stay in his office to take care of him."
"Yes, but we're alright," Hermione finished, not wanting McGonagall to make a fuss or ask where they had been in the first place.
Hermione's worry was short-lived, as the hospital wing doors flew open once more, revealing Hagrid, Ginny, and a bloodied-nose and shell-shocked Harry. McGonagall immediately descended upon Harry, steering him to a clean bed and trying to force him to lie down, ignoring his mud-encrusted clothing.
"I'm not hurt," he told McGonagall, his green eyes affixed to a bed at the far end of the ward where Tonks, Lupin, Ron were crowded. "Ginny said Bill was attacked by Greyback; is he OK?"
No one wanted to answer Harry's question, or they didn't know how to. Harry ended up walking over to the bed where Bill lay, peering over Ron's shoulder to see for himself. Pomfrey had been hurriedly digging through a cupboard before bustling over, using her free hand to shoo Ron and Harry away to dab some nasty-smelling unguent on Bill's face.
Hermione crept across the room, almost too scared to look at Bill. When she saw the angry red slashes across his face, which was barely recognisable, she had to choke back a sob. Hearing or reading about a werewolf's attack was one thing; seeing its damaging effects was another, and Hermione had to look away for a moment to regain her composure.
While Harry was questioning Pomfrey about Bill, professor Flitwick had regained consciousness and was lightly arguing with McGonagall about leaving the hospital wing to go check on his Ravenclaws.
"But Filius, you've had a shock," she protested. "You need to lie down for a moment. Surely we can send one of the other professors to check on the students."
"Now, now, Minerva," Flitwick began, climbing off the bed and adamantly stating that he was fine even as he stood on shaky legs. "I'd rather personally see that my Ravenclaws are fine instead of hearing it from someone else. Besides, we should save the beds for those who really need it."
Knowing that it was futile to argue with the Charms professor, McGonagall gave a weary sort of sigh yet followed behind Flitwick as he walked out of the hospital wing. Ron had been in the middle of asking where Dumbledore was, saying that he might know something about keeping Bill from completely turning into a werewolf when Ginny told her brother that the headmaster was dead.
"No!" Lupin shouted, jumping out his seat and looking down increduously at his former student as if she were lying. When the grim look on Ginny's face plainly said that she was not making it up, Lupin collapsed into the chair beside Bill's bed and covered his face, mouth open in anguish with no sound coming out.
"How did he die?" whispered Tonks, gently placing one hand on Lupin's back. "How did it happen?"
"Snape killed him," said Harry flatly. "I was there, I saw it. We arrived back on the Astronomy Tower because that's where the Mark was...Dumbledore was ill, he was weak, but I think he realised it was a trap when we heard footsteps running up the stairs. He immobilised me, I couldn't do anything, I was under the Invisibility Cloak—and then Malfoy came through the door and Disarmed him—"
That statement caused Hermione's heart to plummet to her stomach and the blood to rush down startling fast from her head. There was no way Snape would have killed Dumbledore; surely Harry must have gotten it wrong. Or he saw something that made him think Snape killed the headmaster.
But that's ridiculous! was dancing on the tip of her tongue, automatically ready to defend Snape. Instead a squeak came out, and Hermione clapped both hands over her mouth before she could blurt out something regrettable.
"Harry, are you sure?" she finally asked. "I know you don't like Professor Snape, but are you certain that—"
"Hermione, would I make something like this up?" Harry snapped, looking at her in disbelief. "I think this goes a damn sight further than me merely disliking Snape. I'm telling you, I saw and heard him using the Killing Curse on Dumbledore. Dumbledore's dead. His body is at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower; Ginny and Hagrid can tell you the same."
There was no objections made by the adults to Harry's strong language, or to Hermione's line of questioning. Harry continued speaking, but Hermione was barely able to hear him over the buzzing in both her ears. Madam Pomfrey fell into a chair and promptly burst into tears, still clutching onto the tube of ointment she'd been dabbing onto Bill's face. The others paid her no mind and went on with their conversation.
Something is wrong, Hermione desperately tried to convince herself, rapidly calculating in her mind every scenario possible in which it might be feasible for Snape to kill Dumbledore, and repeatedly coming up blank. Something is very wrong... This makes absolutely no sense...
Everyone sat in shocked silence while Harry continued with his story. Each pause was punctuated by Pomfrey's sobs, and it was only when a loud shushing sound came from Ginny that everyone paused to focus on low, mournful sob of a phoenix that could be heard outside the castle.
"Molly and Arthur are on their way,"announced McGonagall, who had just returned. "Harry, what happened? According to Hagrid you were with Professor Dumbledore when he—when it happened. He says Professor Snape was involved in some—"
"Snape killed Dumbledore," Harry repeated. His blunt words cause the Head of Gryffindor to sway unsteadily on her feet, and Pomfrey broke out of her tearful reverie long enough to conjure a chair to catch McGonagall before she could hit the floor.
Hearing those words for a second time did nothing to soften the blow, and Hermione felt bile rising and burning the back of her throat. Secretly, she had never agreed with everything Dumbledore said or did. Many times during the summer hols, the headmaster had contacted her and Ron with specific instructions on handling situations, one being to not tell Harry anything the summer before last. Hermione thought it cruel to leave Harry in the dark about everything going on in the wizarding world, especially since he had unerringly been a marked target from birth. But Dumbledore always seemed to know best, and Hermione never questioned his motives.
That didn't mean she wanted to see the headmaster dead. But the idea of Snape killing him?
Easy, Granger. Hold it together, you can't lose it in front of everyone, she mentally coached herself when she felt the beginnings of a dizzy spell, which would most likely lead to fainting, threatening to take over.
Everyone began a play-by-play of that evening, offering a bunch of instances where Dumbledore was adamant about trusting Snape, also telling other Hogwarts staff and members of the Order that they should do the same. It wasn't until McGonagall began blaming herself, saying that she had sent Flitwick to fetch Snape to help fight the Death Eaters, that pieces of an already odd jigsaw puzzle began forming a clearer picture in Hermione's head.
Rapidly going through everything that happened that night, Hermione almost didn't hear Harry asking if she had been standing outside of Snape's office.
"Yes," she answered in a voice that sounded small to her ears as she felt tears prickling her eyes, "with Luna. We hung around for ages and nothing happened...we didn't know what was going on upstairs. We couldn't hear anything and when I'd checked the map, it didn't look as if something was wrong... It was nearly midnight when Flitwick came sprinting down into the dungeons. He was shouting about Death Eaters in the castle, but I don't think he really registered that Luna and I were there at all; he just burst into Snape's office and we heard him saying that Snape had to go back with him and help and then we heard a loud thump and Snape came hurtling out of his room and he saw us and—and—"
Hermione had barely taken a breath and was speaking in one long run-on sentence, but Harry urged her to continue. By the time she finished explaining about Snape telling her and Luna that Flitwick had collapsed and they should look after him while he supposedly went to help fight against the Death Eaters, Hermione had covered her face in shame and was speaking in a high-pitched voice, most of her words muffled by her fingers.
"We didn't know...we let him go, but we really didn't think..." she continued, now wondering if she was indeed the world's biggest fool.
"It's not your fault," Lupin said firmly. "Hermione, had you not obeyed Snape and got out of the way, he would have probably killed you and Luna."
That caused her mouth to fall open.
Snape...Severus...kill me? Hermione inflected, feeling her gut twist uncomfortably. He wouldn't do that... He wouldn't hurt me...
Are you quite sure about that?
When Hermione was unable to answer her own question—or perhaps she was, and it was the possible outcome which unnerved her greatly—she jumped up from her seat with the sudden need to get away from everyone. Harry had continued with his story and no one paid her any mind as she hastily walked across the room and exited the hospital wing. Mr and Mrs Weasley were on their way in with their terrified soon-to-be daughter-in-law leading the way. Fleur's long silvery-blonde hair nearly whipped across Hermione's eyes as they crossed paths, but the witch was too distraught about her fiance to bother apologising.
Being overlooked by everyone was preferable to being asked why Hermione looked to be on the verge of crying. Chances were they would have assumed she was upset about Dumbledore being killed, combined with the fact that she blamed herself for allowing Snape to get past her. Everyone could think what they wanted, as far as Hermione was concerned. The only thing she wanted to do was find somewhere to be alone with her thoughts.
Portraits lining the walls were usually asleep by this hour, but they were all wide awake, each looking forlorn as she felt. It was apparent that word had spread about the headmaster's death, because the paintings seemed to be quietly grieving in their frames.
Hermione walked through the eerily silent castle in a fog. Her feet felt disconnected from her body, as if some invisible force was prodding her along. Unfortunately, it also seemed like wherever she turned, someone was standing by. She even passed Filch, who was dressed in an old, long nightshirt, a tatty robe over it, and a pair of boots. The caretaker was hunched over and sweeping up bits of rubble that looked as if it came from a nearby partially demolished wall. For the first time in her life, Hermione wished the man had offered one of his customary belittling remarks, as it would have meant that tonight was like any other night. But even Filch was shuffling about in a resigned sort of way, holding his broom and dustpan as if both items were heavy as the melancholic mood which enshrouded the entire school.
The Gryffindor common room was most likely buzzing with excitement, as everyone was probably finding it hard to sleep. Hermione reasoned that she could draw the curtains around her bed in the dormitory, but they weren't thick enough to keep sound from pouring in. Besides, she felt too worn out to speak to anyone.
Remembering the one place that had been previously used by her and her friends, Hermione climbed the stairs to the seventh floor and walked past the blank section of walls three times, concentrating hard on what she needed most.
When the Room of Requirement finally materialised, Hermione slipped inside while making sure that no one saw her. Just as she'd hoped, there was everything she had been looking for—a quiet place to rest her head.
The room was sized properly; not so small that she would have to go outside to think, and not so big that it resembled a cathedral. It was almost completely bare, save for a low, squashy orange sofa that could have held at least six people. Across from it was a burning hearth, and between that and the sofa, a small battered table which held a teapot and a single cup.
After setting her wand down on the table, Hermione wearily sank down onto the sofa. Once her shoes had been toed off, she curled her feet beneath her and took to staring at the wavering flames in the hearth. If there was a time to cry, now would be it since no one was there to witness the outburst.
But she was numb with grief, and crying eluded her. Hermione was still stuck on the fact that Snape had actually killed Dumbledore, as well as Lupin's statement about him killing her as well had she got in his way.
Since her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione had stopped believing that Snape was one of the 'bad guys'. Ron and Harry had grudgingly admitted that, yes, Snape had on more than one occasion saved their hides, but it didn't stop them from verbalising every unkind thought about the professor that crossed their minds.
Maybe they were right all along and you were just too much of a naive fool to see, Hermione bitterly told herself.
There was a certain level of naivete that was typically only accepted when it came to small children, and frowned upon when it came to those with more life experience. For someone that had dealt with persons in a position of power, some of whom were meant to protect those of the wizarding world but turned out to be crooked as a barrel of fish hooks, Hermione reasoned that she ought to have known better. But deep down inside, some small part of her refused to believe that Severus Snape was the proverbial villain that everyone now made him out to be.
'Do you trust me?' Severus had once asked her. Hermione had told him yes, because it was true: she did trust him. Of course, he'd always made sure to remind her in a roundabout way about why she shouldn't, although his words had done little to sway her opinion.
'You trust me now, but that will change. I'm sure of it...'
'Keep in mind that if I'm doing something that seems unorthodox, it is in fact for a specific reason, none of which you need know about...'
'...I can guarantee there are things about me which would annihilate this little romanticised version you seem to hold about me...'
Had those all been warning signs? If there was more behind Dumbledore's death, Hermione knew that Snape wouldn't tell her. But fact remained, Harry had painted a clear picture of the headmaster being murdered in cold blood, and because of it, Snape would surely be on the run. The Dementors didn't see shades of grey when it came to dealing punishment and when they caught Snape, Hermione knew he would be given the Kiss.
That idea of the bad-tempered yet brilliant wizard being reduced to a pile of gibbering, incoherent man that wouldn't know his own name was nearly too much to bear. To make things more difficult, if it were possible, Hermione found that she was still in love with the professor, in spite of his newfound title as a murderer.
Isn't there some stupid saying 'you can't help who you love'? she asked herself, burying her face in both hands and sighing deeply.
To put it mildly, her heart hurt. She felt betrayed in every sense of the word, guilty because her feelings about the professor hadn't changed, and confused because she couldn't understand why they hadn't changed. Hermione reasoned that she was supposed to hate Snape. Chances were he was expecting her to. But she was unable to bring herself to even dally with the notion.
Purely out of the need to distract herself, Hermione scooted forward to the edge of the sofa and began preparing a cup of tea. It took her a few minutes to take a sip; her brain was still working overtime and each arising thought kept throwing her further off kilter.
Hermione began ticking off a list of things in her mind. Snape killing Dumbledore made a few things clear: one was that he was definitely on the Death Eater's side. Two, because the headmaster was now dead, it was inevitable that Hogwarts was no longer safe, although its security had been questionable for the past few years. Cedric Diggory being killed during the Triwizard Tournament had only been the beginning. Things had gotten progressively worse since then, although many had been lulled into a false sense of security.
No one was safe from anything happening to them, that much had been proven many times over. But with Dumbledore around, he had at least given some semblance of protection. Knowing that she had also been beneath the cloak of Snape's protection had also been comforting, but with them both gone, Hermione felt exposed, like a small child that had been forgotten about and left behind, and for the first time in her life, she had not a single solution in mind.
There was no denying it—she was terrified.
"Why are you so difficult?" Hermione asked aloud of life.
Trelawney's palaver about omens and the like suddenly came to mind. While Hermione still believed Divination to be nothing but a load of tripe, she seriously began wondering if she had done something horrid in a former life considering that she hadn't had a moment's peace ever since learning that she was a witch. Then again, it wasn't as if she was an exception. No one else had asked for a megalomaniac wizard and his followers to torture and murder their families.
The poured cup of tea remained untouched and soon forgotten about. Hermione pressed her forehead to the cloth armrest of the sofa and squeezed her eyes shut. It dawned on her that she had always somewhat taken Snape's presence for granted, even on those days when she only saw him at mealtimes or in class. She had assumed that he would always be nearby, never once thinking there would be a reason for him to leave Hogwarts. Now that he was gone, she felt alone. Having her familiar with her might have helped, but Hermione remembered that she hadn't seen the half-kneazle all day. He definitely hadn't been in Snape's office. Perhaps he'd stayed hidden in the professor's private chambers, sleeping while everyone else fought for their lives.
Crookshanks.
He had been completely trusting of the professor, something that Hermione found shocking at first. But the animal's willingness to remain closely tethered to a wizard that others distrusted was not lost on her. Hermione had lost count of the times that Crookshanks tried to attack Ron's rat, Scabbers. Crookshanks had also immediately taken to Sirius Black, whom everyone believed to be the wizarding world's deadliest criminal. The irony of that entire situation: the one person that seemed innocuous turned out to be the villain; the purported villain turned out to be innocent, and Crookshanks had been the only one to sense it.
Of course, while Crookshanks was fond of Harry and Ginny, he also seemed to have a somewhat patronising attitude when it came to Ron. Hermione surmised that to be some sort of kitty snub, as if to say, You idiot; you literally slept with a murdering rat for how many years and didn't think anything was odd? Are you thick or are you thick?
So what did that mean about the half-kneazle's perception of Severus Snape?
Fact remained, he killed Dumbledore. But if Snape really were a murderer, if he really was the hateful man that everyone made him out to be, why was Crookshanks so protective of him?
"This doesn't make sense," Hermione muttered into the soda. "None of this makes sense."
Crookshanks was protective of the professor, and the professor was protective of...her.
'It will most likely kill me in the end, but I will always protect you.'
After getting attacked by Draco Malfoy in the boy's bathroom and being confined to the hospital wing, those words swirled around in Hermione's subconscious while she'd been stuck in a potion-induced haze. Upon waking, she had forgotten about the promise, and it was when she was on the fine-edged cusp of falling into a deep sleep, did she remember. At first she thought those words had been a figment of her imagination, perhaps something she'd dreamt about. The night Severus visited her in the hospital wing and carefully made love to her—there was no denying what occurred between them had been more than mere sex—Hermione laid in his arms, tranquilised by the sound of his steady breathing. There was a moment when she nearly fell asleep, but Crookshanks had jumped onto the bed to sit on their legs, thus breaking her train of thought. That split second had been enough for Hermione to reflect upon the day of her attack, coming to in the hospital wing, and finding herself in bed with Severus hovered over her.
She had been panicked, frightened, and clinging to his sleeve when he moved his face to hers, far enough to not warrant suspicion but close enough for her to focus on his every hawkish feature, when she'd heard words uttered in a tone low enough for her ears only: 'It will most likely kill me in the end, but I will always protect you.'
Those words had been as real as the person who spoke them. And they were another reason for Hermione's heart and brain to go at war with one another.
Thinking back to her and Snape's last conversation that took place atop the Astronomy Tower, Hermione recalled asking the professor about being unable to turn off her feelings. He'd told her to do so would be to invite trouble, and she hadn't found that response to be helpful.
'What if this...feeling, is the only thing I have, or a big part of what makes me happy?' she'd pressed, still looking for a response that she would deem suitable. 'Why would I willingly give that up?'
'One cannot truly control their feelings,but if you feel that strongly, perhaps it's best if you keep them in mind, so long as it does not impair your wits.'
'I understand.'
'You claim to understand now, but that's because you've not yet faced the worst of what's yet to come. It's easy to be agreeable when you aren't standing in the middle of the storm.'
Storm had been and was still quite the apposite word to describe the situation in which she now found herself. Had Snape known all along what was to come? Had there been some underlying message in each of his statements? Did he know he was going to kill the headmaster?
Even if that was the case, Hermione kept a painful admittance in mind: she was still in love with Severus, even if that love was effectively tearing her conscience to shreds. One time she had asked him about the consequences of Voldemort or the Death Eaters learning about their relationship; multiple times she'd thought about her friends and extended family discovering her secret. Back then, her worries had everything to do with their forbidden relationship. But now...what would they say if they'd found out she'd been keeping company with someone marked as a murderer? Would she be accused of perfidy? Or would everyone assume that Snape had been controlling her through some Dark means, literally keeping her as some twisted sort of teacher's pet?
And what if they did find out? Hermione asked herself, finally allowing hot tears to fall from her eyes. Would that change how you feel? Would you just forget about everything?
The rhetorical answer was a resounding no.
Foolish though it might be, Hermione knew her feelings hadn't changed. There was no point in lying to herself— eventually she would have to face things. But fact remained, she did not understand why Snape killed Dumbledore, and she was more confused than she had ever been in her entire life.
Yet...she still loved Severus Snape.
And it hurt terribly.
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Unintentional Inveiglement