Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Torment Completed	By : Kvarta Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 31713 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

Chapter List
- 52
- 53
- 54
A/N: @BlackRose " I don’t think Severus is going to learn that lesson anytime soon" - if ever! He is not the type at all :). "Hermione is getting better and so is Severus. Slow but steady." - they are, neither of them is still where supposed to be, but I'm glad that it is shining through the story (even if they don't see it yet).
To avoid further confusion:
Italic - Past, memories
‘Single quotation mark’ - inner monologue, thoughts
“double quotation mark” - actual speech
The January slowly slide into February. He was more than a little disgruntled with seatback he had to face. After his birthday majority of visitors went on with their lives, abandoning the notion to force their company on him. At the same time, the remodelling of Malfoy Manor commenced. But still, one of the careless visitors brought a cold upon him. Poppy named that as a good thing, baring the Peper-me-up in the favour of hot tea with lemon and runny nose.
If he had any saying in that… If he had any means to defend himself… But he hasn’t. Poppy’s explanation that cold was the perfect opportunity for him... to build his nearly destroyed immune system anew, sounded like a poor excuse. After seven days of high fever and both Hermione’s and Misty’s fussing, he was downright murderous. Malfoy’s wisely proclaimed his room as a quarantine zone and avoided him and his moods. Hermione seemed to grow the extra layer or two of skin, and nothing he said set her off her tracks.
By the end of January, he was free of the cold. Hermione, however, fell a prey to it. The stubborn idiotic child refused to budge from the room or to stop fussing around him. For reason unknown to him – Poppy supported her decision. In his own opinion, they devised this plan with the sole purpose to aggravate him. More often than not, the girl was too exhausted for anything. She would fuss around him only to lose her strength and fell asleep curled at the foot of his bed. As the first week of February slipped away, he almost... almost, get used to the fact that she would do that at least few times during the day. Begrudgingly, he consoled himself with fact that dog or cat owners suffered the same fate. He never owned a pet other than Hades. But he head enough to know, the cat or a dog would force their owners to relent and grant them the sleeping space on their covers. With all the stories he heard... he should consider himself lucky. At least, she didn’t try to adopt more of the quadrupedal habits and tried to wiggle her way under the covers. He cringed at the thought.
Unfortunately, all this put the stop on their exercises. After nearly twenty days of break and strength draining sickness - his strength was waning. He thought that this seat back was inadmissible, but he had no power to change anything.
His than her sickness also put the damper on their research. Even if the joint effort progressed, as fast as their conditions permitted – he deems it too slow. He never voiced his gratitude to whatever Deity took charge, even if he felt it. The said Deity must have been some obscure, minor and long forgotten. The one with the penchant for lost sinners. There was no other explanation why would any Deity take pity on him. But the influx of his memories stopped, for good – he dare to hope. Her nightmare was another story. But, in overall she was getting better, and he started to wonder when the next breakdown will happen.
It wasn’t the question if but when. Even if to the surroundings she seemed fine. Returned to her old bossy insufferable know-it-all ways… he knew better. Working through the issues was a slow and painstaking process. One that he managed to thwart with outbursts when he would lock himself in the room and drink. Drink until his body couldn’t handle it anymore and until he put himself out off the consciousness. Followed by days of headaches, and bitterness and gagging at the smell of alcohol. Any alcohol at all. However, she wasn’t him. And with trepidation, he waited the moment when he would have to suffer the unpredictable moody mess once more.
Things did tone down for now. Especially after the day when Potter showed up with Ginevra and George at his heel. Why she was so hung on the Weasley’s was beyond any reasonable comprehension. But they were one of his options if he was to get rid of the girl. Luckily for him, the whole crying episode was unnecessary. And once he is strong enough, he will personally hex the living life out of the youngest Weasley male. Slowly and painfully. He will put him to the same amount of misery he had to suffer. The missing gifts, as it turned out, weren’t missing at all. Ronald hid them, telling his mother that he already sent them on their way, an attempt to ‘call her to her senses’. And for once in his life, Severus was ready to agree with the dolt. If the said dolt had brain enough to understand the situation. It was just his luck that Ronald’s action had the opposite effect.
The moment when Potter entered the room she froze. Blinking mutely before spurring to action followed by a flood of tears and words. Words in such tone that he had to banish them all into the hallway. Narcissa followed his example by ushering them to her parlour and warding the door for sound. After that day the floodgates finally closed down. Not that he had any doubts, Molly always the mother hen never abandoned anyone. Not only that she got presents and best wishes from various Weasley’s. He was also cursed with one of the sweaters. Molly went on an edge to make him a black sweater with a green snake that looked more like a lizard splattered over the road then a snake. He won’t have to suffer… this… social atrocity… for long – hopefully.
For now, in rare moments when he had peace, he contemplated deep philosophical questions of the afterlife. Hermione’s persistence to include Muggle medicine into their research nudged him in that direction. He entertained himself with combining the knowledge of Muggle theories, no matter how absurd, with wizarding ones. After all, he would have plenty of time to confirm or deny his conclusions, once he faces the Deity in charge of him. He would wrestle the answers if need be. For now, those musings seemed like a wise course of his rough thought process. Far more… safer… than to face real problem at hand. The conviction fortified itself after she got sick. Contemplating on afterlife seemed like a healthy course. Especially when she adopted the habit of passing out on his bed.
The second week in February, Lucius started coming to the room again. It gave him a pleasure to inform Lucius about the changed ownership of the books. It didn’t make Lucius happy, but his friend didn’t put much of a fight either. Nevertheless, for all intents and purposes... life was at least bearable – to the certain degree.
Hermione was gazing through the window, pretending to read. More and more she used books as a cover instead of their actual purpose. It suited him fine, as long as it would grant him a bit of breathing space. When Lucius hobbled into the room she jolted out of the sofa and with a hiss marched to the bathroom. Lucius had the sour look on his face. From constant arguing, those two slid to disdainfully ignoring.
“I grabbed a few moments for you, Severus.” Lucius turned to him
“You want to say that you wiggled you're but out of the work again.”
“Precisely. I am not nor ever will be a mason, carpenter or decorator.”
“Things are progressing fine, then?”
“Better than. I wanted to thank you for coaxing Draco to talk to me.”
“And how that went?”
“We talk. It is a bumpy road, but at least we talk now. I made the arrangements and new contract is being drafted.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
~ S ~ S ~ S ~
With an annoyed huff, she closed the door behind her. Working as fast as she could. She warded the door, set the blanket in front of them, sliding one of the extendable ears she had into the room. After Severus’s birthday, she started to spy on their conversations. If she wanted to crush down Malfoy she needed the ammunition.
She leaned her eye to the keyhole. It was one of the ancient keyholes, large enough to give her the good view of his bed and part of the room. So far, their conversations revolved around boring topics. Mentioning of Draco, however, gave her hope that she might hear something valuable. Her eyes narrowed at Malfoy’s words
“You may take the page from your own book, Severus. You know?”
“I have no idea what are you talking about.”
“I don’t say that you go on the limb and find ’love’. But, the little bit of relaxation and distraction wouldn’t do you any harm.”
“Lucius…” Snape sighed sounding tired
“How long has it been, Severus?”
“We are not having this conversation, Lucius.” The tingle of threat in Snape’s voice didn’t do much to sidetrack Malfoy
“Yes, we do.” Growled Malfoy “I am sick at tired of watching you denying yourself.”
“Yes, because I am surrounded by opportunities. How do I manage to resist them?” sarcastic drawl had familiar note of malice
“One word from you and opportunities will present themselves.”
“Lucius….”
“I do what I can, Severus. For all I care, you can indulge yourself…”
“Lucius!”
“Oh! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice her.”
“The mentioned ‘her’ is my student.”
“If you exclude all your students you are in a serious trouble.”
“As it happens to be I. Don’t. Fuck. Children.”
Her eyes widened. Angry as she is, Malfoy maybe onto something. If he could find… distraction… a bit of pleasure in his life… he might just stop thinking about offing himself. How to arrange something like that was one problem. The other would be how to find someone who won’t run away screaming from him.
She will have to give that idea a thought. She will also have to tread carefully not to tip him off. Apparently, Malfoy didn’t share her careful line of thinking
“Your problem is, my friend, you don’t fuck. Period.” Hissed Malfoy
“My choices are my own, Lucius, and I urge you to respect them.” Came terse reply
“What choices? Living like a monk because of your misplaced longing for that stuck-up swot.”
“Don’t you dare…”
“What? Speak the truth? You do not intimidate me nearly enough to remain silent any longer.”
“And what would you know of her beside her blood status?”
“Plenty as it happens to be.”
“You never liked her or supported…”
“No, I did not. And it had nothing to do with her blood status either.” Snapped Malfoy which earned him one derisive snort from Snape. Malfoy continued “My dislike of her had more with the way she treated you.”
“She was my friend.”
“She used to be your friend. Yes, but only to the point you were willing to bow your head and follow the path she designed.”
“You were not present, you have no idea what are you talking about.”
“Don’t I? Tell me, brother, how many times she complained about your love for Dark Arts,? Without an attempt to understand it? How many times did she complain about your choice of friends? Did she ever voice that you may socialise with her friends instead? Did she offer anything except reproach? And… how many times you wrote her potions homework?”
“Lucius, I’m warning you…”
“How many times she gave that same homework to Potter and Black? Face it, my brother, she may have been your friend once. When she had no one similar at her side. But once she came to the school, her true colours shone quite brightly. She was manipulative and she couldn’t stand those who had the backbone to protest her. She never gave if she didn’t see a benefit in her gift. And you…had nothing to offer, not what she craved for.”
“Lucius…stop it.”
“Do you know how I know? Regulus. Black wasn’t shy on bagging how he never pursue her only because of his respect for the Potter. She wanted status, one you couldn’t give her.”
“Shut up Lucius.” Hissed Snape.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. Snape looked like he would jump out of the bed and strangle Malfoy with his bare hands. Mask of pain and anger distorting his face. For some reason, Malfoy kept on twisting the knife in the wound his words opened
“I won’t. For once in my life, I won’t remain silent. Not anymore! I won’t stand by and watch one of my own white into nothingness. I won’t watch you punishing yourself, wasting your life away. For whom? For her? If she loved you, if she showed an ounce of affection towards you, I would find the way to help you. To make it happen, Dark Lord or not. For all my life, as long as we know each other, I did my best to sidetrack you. To show you that there are others, more deserving of your attention. At least more willing to have your attention. So yes, at this point I’d be grateful for anyone. Anyone. Even that little menace locked in the bathroom!”
She sat on her heels and closed her eyes. Torn between the feeling of anger and agreement with Malfoy. She could barge in the room and hex him for speaking that way about her. Putting that aside, logically thinking, she thought that Malfoy’s words had some merit. Especially if they were true.
Magic rippled through the air and she started to remove the blockage she piled up next to the door. The Loud bang of broken stone tore up the scream from her lips. She runs into the room. Malfoy was next to the window, leaning on his cane. Mask of cold anger on his face. Snape was sitting in the bed. One trembling hand stretched, fingers curled around the wand. Wand pointed to space above the fireplace, where once was a mantle, but now an only gaping hole. Neither of men looked at her.
“This conversation is over.” Rasped Snape
Malfoy hobbled to the exit door, eyes locked on Snape. To her, time seemed to crawl at snail's pace while Malfoy picked his way through the rubble. He left the room without a word.
She watched Snape unsure of what to do. Her first impulse was to run to him, try to offer comfort… but… He was still petrified in the same position. His face shadowed by pain. And she was reluctant to approach him and set him off once more. Finally, he fell back to bed. Hand still gripping the black wood. A desperate grip of a drowning man that took all the colour out of his wrist and knuckles. The covers started to shake in a distinctive motion of silent, dry sobs.
Her body twitched. She wanted… no! She had almost physical need to go to him. To help and protect and heal. It surprised her how tight her chest felt from the realisation that her help wouldn’t be accepted. As quietly as possible, she turned on her heel and returned to the bathroom. If she couldn’t help, least she could do is to give him privacy.
- 52
- 53
- 54
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Torment *Completed*

Torment Completed