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Amphitrite	By : AndreaLorraine Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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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�There
he is,� Hermione said softly, nudging her companion. Dawn, never one for
subtlety, turned her head and looked right at him. Her eyebrows went up, and she grinned.

�He�s definitely a hottie. Damn, Hermione. You get these cute Greek guys and all I get is
Mr. Pureblood Crackhead��

�Lucius isn�t unattractive.�

�Yeah, he has a pretty face�and a decent body, I
suppose. But he has all the personality
of a Mandrake root.�

�You�re just saying that because you�re still mad. I think you held your liquor much better than
he did that night. You slept with him
for a reason,� Hermione replied, unable to resist a few barbs to pay Dawn back
for the scene in the lingerie store.

An annoyed look crossed Dawn�s face for about three
seconds�and then she grinned.

�I knew you had it in you, Hermione. Oh, excuse me, perhaps Snape has been in you.�

�Don�t be disgusting,� she replied, straightening her
hair as Anatole spotted them and began to head over.

�Hey,�
Anatole said, smiling sheepishly as he approached
Hermione. True to his word, he�d brought
a friend to occupy Dawn. Hermione could tell
that she approved, because she grabbed Anatole�s
friend even as Anatole introduced him.

�This
is my good friend Nick,� he said.

�Well
Nick and I will go get better acquainted,� Dawn said, latching onto the
confused-looking man�s arm. �Have fun,
kids!�

�Wow,�
Anatole said, smirking as Nick threw him a look that
clearly said both �What have you gotten me into?� and �Help!�.

�Yes,
she�s a bit overpowering when you first meet her,� Hermione agreed, feeling a
surge of pity for Nick.

�I�m
sure he�ll be fine. You look amazing,
Hermione.�

Hermione
blushed furiously.

�Thank
you. You do, too, of course.�

Anatole
pulled out her chair for her, pushed it in once she�d made herself comfortable,
and then took a seat across from her.

�I
know you said you�d call me,� he began, fidgeting with the fancily folded
napkin. �But to be honest, Hermione�� he
said, lifting his brown eyes to meet hers, �I couldn�t stop thinking about you
after the train ride.�

Hermione�s
blush renewed itself and she used the excuse of arranging her silverware to
avoid his intense gaze.

�I
meant to call you,� she murmured. �I
just got so caught up with things at work.�

�It�s
all right,� he said, smiling. �I thought
it might be worth a try to call, and look what happened! I got you.�

�Yes,
you�re very lucky you called when you did.
This is the first time I�ve been out since I arrived.�

�No!�
Anatole said, feigning horror as he had on the
train. �You�re a workaholic, Hermione.�

�Am
not,� she replied lamely. She heard
Harry and Ron laughing at her in the back of her mind, and gave in to the
truth. �All right, so I am. I can�t help it. When something interests me, I get very
absorbed.�

�Well,�
Anatole concluded, his voice lowering in a
disconcertingly sexy way, �we�ll just have to redirect your interest, won�t
we?�

* * * * * *

�I don�t know what happened,� Anatole
said, looking a bit scared. �She was
fine, laughing, and then all of a sudden she just started crying.�

Dawn looked over at Hermione, who was sitting on the curb
and sniffling with her arms around her knees.
Nick was clumsily trying to console her, but he was long gone from too
much ouzo and didn�t manage to do much but pat her on the back and mumble incoherently.

�Did she have a lot to drink?� Dawn asked.

�Well, I don�t know what�s a lot
for her.�

�She�s a stick compared to me. And you said she�d never had ouzo before,
right?�

�Yes.�

�That�s probably all it is. An alcohol-induced moodswing.�

�I hope so,� Anatole replied
anxiously. �We were having such a good
time. I hope it wasn�t anything I said
or did.�

�I doubt it,� Dawn said, shaking her head. �She looked very happy with you.�

Anatole turned his head to look
at the American woman. She had come on
very strong at the beginning, but once he�d gotten used to her frank mannerisms
he found himself appreciating her more and more.

�How was Nick?� he asked, running a hand through his hair
and loosening his sweaty shirt.

�He�s a good guy,� she answered, smiling slightly. �I don�t think he knows what to make of me,
though.�

�Well, you better be thankful that he�s trashed. He always used to say that the day he found a
woman that could out-drink him was the day he�d give up bachelorhood.�

Dawn chuckled.

�You have no idea how many drunken marriage proposals
I�ve gotten. With the state he�s in, he
probably won�t even remember the club.�

Anatole nodded. His ears were ringing slightly from the sheer
volume of the music inside the club. He
could still hear the bass throbbing through the walls from behind them.

�I really wish I knew how to comfort her,� he said,
staring at Hermione�s hunched figure.

�It wasn�t you, Anatole. Don�t worry about it. I�ll take her home. She�ll feel better in the morning, I hope.�

�Tell her to call me.
And that I�m sorry.�

�I will. Thanks
for everything. Nick, too.�

�Are you sure you don�t need a ride or anything?�

�We�ll be fine, but thank you.�

Anatole nodded and set about
the task of getting a very smashed and therefore very rambunctious Nick into
the car. Dawn got Hermione on her feet
and waved back at Anatole as they began a slow walk
towards the beachfront.

* * * * * *

�I need to sit down,� Hermione whispered.

�We�re almost there.�

�I know, but I just need��

�All right, here�s a bench,� Dawn said, releasing her
hold on Hermione and sitting down next to her.
�Have a tissue, sweets.�

Hermione took it and blotted at the tear tracks on her
face.

�I�I didn�t mean to d-do that,� she said, hiccupping
slightly. �It�s just�we were in the
club, and dancing, and having so much fun�and I thought of this time�this time
I took Ron to a club��

A fresh wave of tears began.

�Who�s Ron?� Dawn asked sympathetically, rubbing her
back.

�He�was one of my best friends. And�I g-guess you could say he was my first
love.�

�Oh no�was?�

�Y-yes. He�s dead.�

�I�m so sorry, Hermione.�

�It�s all right.
It was his decision. I w-won�t
dishonor it by wishing he hadn�t done it.�

�What did he do?� Dawn asked, continuing her back-rub.

�H-he�when Voldemort took Harry
prisoner��

�Harry Potter?� Dawn couldn�t help interrupting
incredulously.

Hermione nodded, sniffling.

�Voldemort captured him, and s-said
that if Dumbledore relinquished Hogwarts to the Death Eaters, he would let
Harry go. And as much as Dumbledore
loves Harry�as much as we all did�we couldn�t.
We just couldn�t save him. We
knew that Harry wouldn�t have wanted us to give everything up just to save his
life.�

Dawn nodded sadly; she�d experienced similar situations
and knew the pain that came from having to make such horrible sacrifices.

�Ron�he�he was so angry when they decided to do
nothing. He couldn�t believe we were
just going to let Harry die. He�he had a
terrible temper sometimes. He wanted to
save him. I tried to explain it to
him�to convince him�b-but he wouldn�t listen.
That night he snuck out and went to save Harry.�

�And did he?�

�He did. I�ll
never figure out how he did it. He made
it past dozens of Death Eaters�right into where Harry was being held. He freed Harry�and�and then�he took his
place.�

�Couldn�t they have escaped together?�

�Ron wanted Harry to have enough time to get back to
Hogwarts. He was hurt and couldn�t move
very fast. Ron figured that if Voldemort didn�t know his prisoner had escaped until
morning, Harry would have time to get to safety, and everyone at Hogwarts would
have time to prepare for the battle. Of
course Harry refused to leave him there, but Ron would hear none of it. He�he actually put Harry under the Imperius curse.
Normally Harry could fight it off, but he was weakened, from being
injured, so he had no choice but to do what Ron wanted and go back to
Hogwarts.�

�He must have hated that.�

�I�ve n-never heard so many curses come out of Harry�s
mouth. He was furious.�

�And when morning came?�

�When morning came, Voldemort
saw that Harry had escaped. He ordered
an immediate strike on Hogwarts. He�he
brought Ron along. He killed him right
in front of us. And�and n-not with th-the
Killing C-curse either�� Hermione broke off, her tears turning into sobs.

�That�s awful, Hermione,� Dawn said softly, handing her
another tissue.

�I kn-know. B-but we w-won. All because of R-Ron.�

�He was very noble.
And very heroic.�

�I m-miss him.�

�You always will.�

Hermione nodded and then blew her nose loudly.

�So what about you?� she said, sniffling. �What was your first love like?�

�He was amazing.�

�Then why aren�t you still with him?�

�He cheated on me.�

�No! Was she
ugly?�

�Completely busted.�

�Busted?� Hermione asked, unfamiliar with the American
slang.

�Yes, busted. As in just got busted in the face.�

Hermione giggled through her slowly abating tears.

�Do you still talk to him?�

�Every now and then. He wanted to get back together not long after
that, but I turned him down. He acts
like I�m his own personal welcome mat or something. He calls me once in a while and seems to
think that time is enough to make me forget.�

�There will never be enough time for that,� Hermione said
softly.

�Nope, never.�

Hermione nodded and took yet another Kleenex.

A moment later, Dawn stood and said,

�Enough of this feminine bonding crap. Let�s go home.�

Hermione sniffled and stood quietly, falling into step
next to her. Dawn could tell that she
was still unsettled.

�I�ll tell you what,� she said, smirking to herself. �What do you know about practical jokes?�

�I�m closely acquainted with the Weasley
twins. I�ve seen it all, I think,�
Hermione replied, smiling faintly.

�Well then, what do you say to sneaking into the Brit
cabin and doing some damage?�

�Like what?�
Hermione looked slightly alarmed.

�Don�t worry, we won�t do
anything to Snape. Just
Lucius. Deal?�

�Deal.�

Dawn looped her arm through Hermione�s and they set off
for the site. It was time to determine
whether or not putting a sleeping person�s hand in water actually made them wet
the bed.

* * * * * *

Anatole got back into his car
and laid his head on the steering wheel for a moment. He�d finally gotten Nick into bed. It had been a struggle. Nick was easily distracted as it was, but
when he drank too much, he could be the poster child for ADHD.

The night hadn�t gone as he had wanted it to. What he had said to Hermione was true. After the train ride, he really couldn�t stop
thinking about her. He�d always thought
that English accents were classy and sexy, but he�d never encountered the
accent paired with a girl as striking as Hermione. Everything about her stood out; her name, her
demeanor, her subtle beauty. She was
so�natural.

He longed to spend more time with her. She was everything he hoped she�d be. Dinner had been wonderful. They�d completely forgotten to eat their
salads because they were so absorbed in conversation. When the restaurant�s violinist had come to
their table, she knew exactly what he was playing. There seemed no boundary to her intellect,
and yet she wasn�t opinionated or arrogant about it. He had always found it incredibly appealing
when a woman knew just how smart she was but never showed off.

The club had shown him that she also wasn�t as shy as she
seemed. She was secure with
herself. And she sure knew how to dance. But it had also shown him that there were
plenty of things about her that he didn�t know.
She had artfully avoided all his questions about her job and her life
back in England; she was always deflecting the inquiries back onto
him, and he had been more than happy to tell her all about his life. But now there was an imbalance; she knew
almost everything about him, but all he knew about her was that her name was
Hermione Granger and she was from England and her parents were dentists.

What was Hermione hiding?
What had made her emotions so volatile?
Where did she work, and why wouldn�t her cell phone function there? With a sigh, Anatole
put the key in the ignition and started the car. He reached up to adjust the rear-view mirror,
and as he did, caught a glimpse of two people walking along the beachfront.

Dawn and Hermione.

He frowned to himself.
Nick lived right along the coast, perhaps three miles from the
club. If he had known this was the
direction their companions were heading, he would have insisted on giving them
a ride.

He opened the door and got out, fully intending to call
to them and ask them once again if they wanted a ride. But the second he opened his mouth, they made
a slight left turn and disappeared. Simply disappeared.

�Wha�?� he said out loud,
blinking at the spot the two women had previously occupied. Maybe it had been an optical illusion. Maybe they�d gone down a hill and he simply
couldn�t see them anymore. He cautiously
walked across the wide boulevard. The
closer he got to the beach, the more sick and nervous
he felt. His stomach dropped and churned
when he stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side. His heart began to pound and his hands to
shake. The more he tried to force
himself to set foot on the sand, the more nervous and afraid he felt. Every fiber of his being was telling him to
flee, to go home and forget about this place.

He made one last attempt to move closer, but as he did,
his heart fluttered painfully in his chest and he felt beads of sweat dripping
down his back. He couldn�t do it. He couldn�t.

He tried to cross the street again, but his legs felt
like gelatin. He sat on the curb,
breathing hard, watching his hands as they shook. The unnerving sensation still tingled in the
back of his brain, and as he tried to collect himself, the hair on the back of his
neck stood on end. He couldn�t stay here
any longer. He had to get away.

Anatole ran back across the
street and practically dove into his car.
He fumbled with the keys for only a moment before turning it on. He pulled out of his spot and sped away
without looking back.

* * * * * *

Lilith was wrenched out of her sleep very
suddenly, as if someone had lit a firecracker next to her bed. She was confused and disoriented, but she
understood one thing well enough; there was a terrible stench invading her
senses. It smelled like�rancid milk,
rotting flesh�every foul stench she had ever experienced all rolled into one.

She
tried to sit up, but hit something solid.
Then a low, roiling growl reached her ears, and she knew she was in
trouble. Instinctively she scooted
backwards in the sand, kicking it up as hard as she could, hoping she could get
some of it in the creature�s eyes. It
roared and thrashed when she succeeded, and she reached for her wand. She could stun it and then run away, and
everything would be all right.

A
terrible pain seared across her arm as she lifted it to cast the spell. She cried out and dropped her wand
reflexively. Blood rushed from the
wound, spilling onto the sand in small rivulets. She clutched her arm to her body as tears
welled in her eyes. The smell of blood
would only craze the creature further.
Without her wand, she was as good as dead.

It
growled as it stalked; a low, guttural, satisfied sound. Slowly, it crept over her, its tremendous
clawed paws on either side of her body.
She lay perfectly still, trying not to show any fear even though she
knew it could smell it. A rough tongue
lapped at her bleeding arm, and a moment later a cold, wet nose brushed against
her jaw.

She
dared to open her eyes for a moment, wondering if she�d mistaken an everyday
creature for one of darkness. But there
was no questioning what it was; a pair of shockingly amber eyes stared back at
her from a fur-covered, blood streaked face.
A werewolf.
Of course it would be a werewolf.
The moon was full.

It
seemed almost to purr as she looked at it.
She didn�t know why it was delaying.
That was what frightened her the most.
Every werewolf attack she�d ever heard of had been quick and brutal,
executed with animalistic efficiency.
But this one was taking its time, sniffing her, perusing her as if she
were some product for sale in the market.
It made that purring sound again and moved its paw. She felt the roughened pad against her cheek
and the sting of the claws as it pushed, forcing her head to the side and revealing
her neck.

A
sob escaped her as she struggled. It was
fruitless; the wolf�s paw alone was nearly the size of her head. It snorted, and she felt its hot, sour breath
on her neck. Why was it taking so
long? Why wouldn�t it just�

At
that moment it did. She screamed as its
jagged teeth found purchase in the tender flesh of her neck. Lilith had never
felt so much pain in her entire life. She
felt like its teeth would slice clean through her.

Feebly,
she tried to push it away. She clawed at
its chest, but couldn�t do any damage through the thick pelt. She became dizzy as blood spurted from her
wounds. Another hot stab of pain
registered as it raked its claws across her shoulder and chest.

The
scent of blood was thick in the ocean air.
Her vision grew blurry, and the round marble of the moon loomed hazily
above. She was too weak to struggle now,
and hadn�t the breath to scream.

As she fell silent, the wolf raised its gored muzzle
and howled.

* * * * * *

Hermione
woke on the beach in hysterics. She must
have screamed, and loudly; more than half of the excavators were either grouped
around her or standing by their cabins in their nightclothes.

�Out of the way! Out of the freaking way!� she
heard Dawn exclaim as she pushed her way through the crowd. A moment later she was on her knees beside
Hermione. She opened her arms, and
Hermione moved into them gladly, her hands latching onto the sleeves of Dawn�s
nightshirt.

�Was
it about Ron?� Dawn whispered, rocking her gently.

Hermione
shook her head, unable to form words.

�Jesus��
Lucius said flatly, crouching down across from Dawn. There was sweat on his brow and his hands
shook slightly. �It sounded like someone
was being murdered out here.�

�Just
a nightmare,� Dawn replied, her annoyance at him temporarily overpowered by her
concern for Hermione.

�No!�
Hermione said suddenly, pulling away from Dawn.
�Someone was killed out here. Right here. There�s
blood�so much blood�� She squirmed away
from that spot on the sand, tears spilling down her face.

A
moment later Snape was there, having weaved his lean frame through the crowd
noiselessly.

�Here,�
he said as he knelt. �This will calm her
down.� There was a small vial in his
hand. He uncapped it as he moved slowly
toward her, not wishing to startle her with any sudden movements.

�S-severus?� she whispered.

�Yes,
Hermione, it�s me,� he replied soothingly.
�I need you to drink this.�

�A potion?�

�Yes,
it will calm you. You�ll feel better, I
promise.�

She
nodded, blinking back tears, and allowed him to press the vial gently to her
lips. A few minutes later she had calmed
significantly. She leaned heavily on
Snape, one hand wound into the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes had become glassy and as the crowd
watched, seemingly mesmerized, her sobs quieted to small gasps and hiccups.

�Now
let�s get you back to bed,� he said resolutely, gathering her into his arms and
standing. Without another word, Severus
walked toward the cabins with Hermione in tow.
The others parted to allow him to pass, and then slowly scattered back
to their own cabins, murmuring amongst themselves.

Only
Lucius and Dawn remained sitting quietly on the sand, both lost in their own
thoughts.

* * * * * *

I�m
going to explode if someone doesn�t say something soon. I hate awkward silences; hate them, hate
them, hate them. I�d rather someone curse my name and my bloodline using a worldwide Sonorus charm than simply give me the silent treatment.

That�s
exactly what she�s doing. At least I
think it is. If she didn�t want to talk
to me, she would have left, right? But
she hasn�t; she�s just sitting there staring at the water and rubbing one foot
nervously in the sand.

I want to say something. But I don�t know what to say to make things
right. So I can only sit here and
stubbornly refuse to give in to the discomfort of this tension.

I�m
on the verge of grinding my perfect teeth when she finally speaks.

�You
looked a little frightened, just now.�

My
jaw clenches even tighter. I was raised
never to admit to fear. I realize now
how ridiculous that is, but I am still loath to show weakness in any way. But I remember what Severus said; I might
have to sacrifice my dignity. I doubt
she�d judge me negatively if I confessed to my anxiety. A bitter little chuckle escapes my
throat. Who could blame me for my fears
after the life that I have led?

�A�a
little,� I reply, swallowing heavily. I
can�t stand confiding in people. It
makes me feel somehow�insufficient.

She
lifts her eyes to look at me, but does not speak. She seems to know that I�m not finished. I can�t fathom how a woman so quick to anger
a day ago can be so patient and tolerant now.

I
take a breath, and then attempt to make my dread sound reasonable.

�You
see, I�well, I�m sure you know I�serviced Voldemort
at one point.�

She
nods, but her expression does not change.
There is no condemnation in her eyes.
For some reason this gives me a strange sort of boost, and the words
rush out of me with more readiness than I have ever shown to anyone, save for
poor vegetative Severus.

�You
know the sort of things the Death Eaters did.
We did horrible deeds to innocent people. Of course such things are easy to say in
hindsight, when one is not so caught up in fanaticism�in bloodlust.�

She
nods again. Her eyes are still
clear. Her willingness to listen � just
listen � is making me want to get down on my knees and worship her.

�The
only thing worse than what we did to those people�is what we did to
traitors. I was just as eager as the
others�until I became one of those traitors.
I don�t regret deserting. I don�t
regret it at all. But it made life that
much more dangerous. Before, I was
guaranteed protection from the Dark Lord because I was at his side. Any harm that came to me would be my own
fault; if I botched something, there was reason to punish me. But after that, I was on the other side. There was no longer the need of a reason to
hurt me or those close to me. In fact, I
was an especially alluring target. And
the worst part was that I knew what
they would do to me and to Draco � my son � if we were caught.�

I
pause for breath. This is not easy to
say to her, regardless of the fact that she is radiating understanding rather
than hatred or disgust.

�I sometimes have this nightmare. I dream that I�m bound to a stone altar. I�m naked and blindfolded. I can�t see anything, but I can hear and
smell and feel. I can hear screams � usually they�re Draco�s. I can smell
blood and burning flesh. I can feel the
prickle of magic on my skin and I sense them leering at me, waiting and wanting
to tear my flesh from the bone. I�I
won�t tell you all of it. It�s
horrible. But just now�I was just
falling back to sleep�� I pause, giving her a significant look to let her know
that I know it was her that had the smart-assed idea of putting my hand in
water. �And she started screaming. I woke up, but I was tangled in the sheets
and it was pitch black because Severus cast a darkening charm. I thought the dream was actually happening�I
thought I was bound and blindfolded on that altar.�

She simply nods slowly and thoughtfully when I finish. I lean back on my elbows and look up at the
stars; anywhere but at her. I feel
strange to have told her such personal things.
There is an emptiness in my gut that aches with
catharsis. I feel better, but at the
same time I feel worse.

When I finally become annoyed with her silence, I look
over. She has lain down in the sand with
her hands linked behind her head. Even
though I am in a state of emotional retardation and still very much subject to
her wrath, I can�t help but notice how tantalizing her breasts look in the
white ribbed tank top she�s wearing.

I do actually grind my teeth this time. Is that all I can think about? I like to think that I possess a fair amount
of self-control. Not since I was sixteen
has my mind wandered so often to sex. I
bloody well hope no one at this site can read minds; they�ll think I�m some
sort of pervert.

It seems that she simply has that effect on me. I can hardly look at her without my brain
supplying some lurid image straight out of a kama sutra book.
I�m forty-three years old, forty-four in three months time. I�m supposed to be calming down at this age,
aren�t I?

�Did my trick work?� she asks suddenly. It takes me a moment to realize what she�s
talking about, but when I do, I give her a slight lopsided smile.

�Almost.�

�Almost?� she asks, raising an eyebrow.

�Well, I was in the middle of the �going to the loo� dream, just about to let loose, when I remembered that
I wasn�t at the Manor.�

�Curses. Foiled,� she says with the faintest trace of
a grin.

�Foiled, indeed. But be content that you nearly made Lucius Malfoy wet his bed.�

�Now there�s a headline,� she says, smiling genuinely
this time. ��Angry
Witch Causes Lucius Malfoy to Lose All Control of his Bladder.��

�So very flattering. I�m sure the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly
would make it their cover story, and I would go down in history as the face of
wizardly incontinence. I could even
start a club. Not only am I the
president, but also a client.�

She chuckles softly, and then falls silent. Suddenly, she�s close to me, her lips against
my ear.

�We�re all lucky, then, that the face of wizardly
incontinence is a gorgeous one.�

And as quickly as she moved in, she is on her feet and
off in the direction of the cabins. I
want so badly to follow her, to tackle her down in the sand and ravish her
until she can�t even form words. But by
time I make my limbs work, she is already in her cabin.

I lay on the sand, my mind reeling with everything that
has happened. There have been too many
extremes tonight; anger, fright, honesty, confusion, desire�

I wish only to sleep now, but I know Severus is staying
with Hermione in her cabin. I don�t want
anymore nightmares, but I doubt Severus would appreciate me rooting through his
things in search of a Dreamless Sleep potion.
So I�ll just sit here and watch the blackness leach out of the sky,
forcing myself to ignore all the things I should be thinking about.
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