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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
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-63
- 64-64
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- 66-66
- 67-67
- 68-68
- 69-69
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- 72-72
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- 75-75
- 76-76
- 77-77
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- 80-80
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- 86-86
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- 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
- 55
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- 57
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
I've tried to make it obvious where she is in the memory and after, when she is thinking about it. If it's too confusing, let me know.
The next memory swirled around her and resolved. Hermione found herself standing in the hall as the door to Snape's bedroom opened and Snape stepped out. From where she was standing she could just make out the lump in his bed that was her past self, lit by the thing strip of light from the hall. She thought back to the night that she'd crucio'd Malfoy. It felt like such a long time ago. That had been the night Bellatrix had carved up her arm. She scratched the fading scars unconsciously.
What else had happened…? Oh… She remembered why she was in his bed. He'd raped her that night, threatened her with the Imperio if she didn't do as told and lie still for him. The memory brought with it a strange mixture of feeling, anger, hurt, and something else. She struggled to merge the memory of the cruel, evil man he had seemed that night with the one she had just been talking to, and feeling compassion for. She couldn't understand how it could be the same person.
Hermione realised that Snape had moved down the hall towards his study, and she quickly followed him. If I'm asleep, these must be Snape's memories. Curious as to why he was showing her this, she walked through into the room behind him and down the stairs to the main floor. He went across to a cupboard and began to pull out phials, which she recognised as her own memories.
A voice from the wall startled her, so intent was she on watching his face as he performed his task.
"How is she, Severus?"
"As well as can be expected. It was a difficult evening. The Dark Lord was somewhat impressed with her, and now wishes for me to find a way to convince her to support him."
He sounded angry and bitter, and as she moved up beside him Hermione saw his face with contorted with barely restrained fury. She looked down to where he was still fussing with the phials. His hand were shaking. Why is he so angry? I don't understand.
"She is lucky, to have you looking out for her."
If Hermione hadn't been standing so close she wouldn't have noticed the way his hands clenched tightly as Dumbledore spoke, or the way his face drained of the little colour he had, except for two spot of red high on his cheeks.
"I doubt that she would agree with you right now," he snapped back at the painting, and Hermione realised suddenly that the anger he was trying so hard to surpass was all aimed at himself, at the horrible situation he had been put in. How she longer in that moment to be able to reach out to him, to tell him that she understood what he had had to do.
Snape looked over his preparations one last time, snatching his hand away and tucking it into a pocket when he realised it was shaking. "It is time," he said, and stalked out the room again.
Hermione trailed sadly along behind him, her mind working fast. The more memories she saw, the more she was finding it hard to view Snape as the hard-hearted, nasty man he had always seemed to be. The situation was causing him as much pain as it was her, probably more, as he obviously did not enjoy treating he the way he had to in order to maintain the illusion for Voldemort. So many of the things he had done in recent weeks were beginning to make more sense, now she was able to see them from a different point of view.
She turned her attention back to Snape, who had re-entered the bedroom and was now bending over her as she slept, and as she watched he shook her awake. As soon as she saw him she tried to get herself as far away as possible by pressing herself into the corner. Hermione could barely remember the time when she would have felt quite so afraid of him. Even without understanding what was really happening she had recently found a measure of comfort when he was close. She felt safe with him.
Snape was speaking. "I am not going to touch you Miss Granger. Please put this on and follow me. There are things you must see."
Hermione saw the surprise on her own face as he used her name. Even now, when he called her that instead of girl or pet, it sounded slightly odd to her ears. Snape handed her past self a robe which she put on once his back was turned, and soon Hermione was following herself back down the hall to the study.
Snape gave a quick explanation that was fairly similar to the one she had been given only a few hours ago, and she was sure that her face at the time had held a similar look of disbelief as the one she could see on her past self now. She was eventually persuaded to view the pensieve, and was soon lowering her face to the shimmering liquid.
As soon as she was immersed in the memory, Snape sat at his desk and pulled some papers in front of him, but Hermione saw he was having difficulty concentrating, and he kept stealing quick glances at the pensieve. It was not long before he gave up on his work and slumped over the desk, head in hands and an expression of self-loathing evident on his face.
The scene faded slightly for a moment, and Hermione realised she had jumped forward by about an hour when she glanced at the clock. She watched herself emerge from the pensieve, Snape as yet unaware of her. She looked terribly sad, and her eyes went straight to the figure behind the desk, concern showing in her eyes. She walked across to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped slightly, looking up at her with a guarded expression that seemed to relax as he saw her. He wasn't sure what to expect from my reaction. Did he really think I could be angry with him?
"Professor…" she whispered, and began to cry. To Hermione's surprise Snape stood, wrapping his arms around the sobbing girl and pulling her to him so her face was buried in his chest, her sobs muffled.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, rocking her gently. Hermione was astonished at the tenderness he was showing towards her, and at a time when he was obviously so much in need of some himself. There seemed to be no end of surprises when it came to this man.
Hermione emerged from Snape's memory a while later, and chose to sit on the chair she had transfigured earlier while she processed what she had just seen. She saw Snape get up and come towards her, concern etched on his face, but she waved him away. "I'm ok. I just need a minute or two to think. It's a lot to take in all at once." Snape backed off, leaving her in peace. She closed her eyes while she thought.
Her cries had died out after a while, but she had refused to pull her face out of Snape's coat, and her knuckles were white from clutching at the fabric of his robes. Eventually Snape had swung her into his arms and carried her from the study into his library, where he'd lowered himself into his armchair as she'd continued to cling to him. He'd lit the fire with a wandless spell and called for Tiggy, who he'd told to bring tea and an assortment of food and to come back with it for further instructions.
When Tiggy had reappeared only a few moments later he'd asked her to pour a cup of tea and hand it to him, and then told the little elf quietly to change the sheets on his bed. It had taken some coaxing, but eventually Hermione had been brave enough to lift her face from his chest and accept the tea, although she had been unwilling to move from his lap, and he hadn't asked her to, despite the fact he was obviously growing uncomfortable with the prolonged contact and unused to showing such gentleness towards another.
He'd waved a plate of biscuits across to her with his wand and she'd accepted one, now feeling brave enough to sit up and look him in the eyes, tentatively smiling when he'd asked how she was feeling and whether she was warm enough.
After a while Snape had persuaded her to sit in his chair while he went for a salve for her arm, and he'd returned quickly and knelt in front of her as he applied it. She'd not taken her eyes off his face the whole time, barely blinking the whole time. Eventually they had both worked up the courage to talk to each other, mainly about the successful meeting with Voldemort earlier that evening, although they had steered clear of mentioning what Snape had done to her when they'd arrived back at the castle. It had needed no discussion.
Before long, she'd started yawning, and Snape had insisted she return to bed and get some rest, as she was sure to wear herself out with her work the next day. Hermione had looked panicked for a second, and had thrown her arms around his neck. In the end, Snape had been forced to agree to accompany her back to bed, but she could tell the request made him feel awkward, considering how he had agonised over the way he had forced himself on her not that long ago. He'd still done it though, for her, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close as she fell asleep.
Hermione opened her eyes, and glanced round the room. Snape must have summoned Tiggy while she'd been viewing that memory, as the desk was now clear of food, although there was a cup of steaming tea sitting beside her, as well as one besides Snape, who had abandoned his writing and was now sitting behind a rather large tome, reading intently. He didn't look up as Hermione grabbed the cup and began to sip it slowly.
She pondered his strange behaviour, as well as her own that evening. It felt such a long time ago that she had been so unwilling for Snape to touch her, and she could barely remember the hate and disgust that she'd felt that night as he had forced himself on her. She could well understand her own past reaction in clinging to Snape in such a way once she'd found out the truth, but she was still having problems resolving her own feelings about Snape, the gentle way he had treated her that evening only confusing her further. She felt like she didn't know him.
The next morning when they'd awoken, Hermione had found herself still in his arms, her back pressed up against his chest, legs entangled. Snape had been embarrassed to find his hand on her breast, and in turn she'd been unable to look him in the eye, aware that as she had drifted towards consciousness she had been pushing herself into his hand, unsure whether the moans of pleasure had been only in her dreams or whether she'd uttered them out loud.
Breakfast had been awkward, and Snape had been all too eager to leave her in the library with the knowledge that she could use any of the books that she wished, but if they were likely to be warded, then she should fetch him before opening them.
The from then on had appeared to her in sections, the memories often dimming for a moment and she would realise from the clock that maybe 10 minutes or sometimes an hour had gone by. I guess I only kept the useful bit, or this would take ages to watch. She hovered over herself as her past self worked through different books, occasionally calling for Snape to help her with one she assumed to be warded.
She'd been amused to see herself pouring over Hogwarts: A History again. I'm sure I could recite most of it off by heart. There had also been a number of other history books spread around, and Hermione realised that her past self had been looking not only for famous battles in the search for who might currently hold the Elder wand, but also for some idea about objects that may have been important enough for Voldemort to use as a horcrux.
Snape kept out of the library for much of the day, leaving her to her research, but returned for lunch which was provided by Tiggy once again. Conversation had been stilted, until Hermione had asked where Snape had been the previous morning. He had described how Harry and Ron had been brought to the manor and eventually escaped with the captives from the cells. He had arrived after the event, but the Dark Lord had still been in fury, lashing out at everyone within reach, and he'd been unable to leave for some time.
The conversation had died out soon after that, and Snape had retreated back to his study, telling her that he would be leaving his chambers for some time that afternoon, but would be back before supper. Hermione had looked worries at this, but Snape had reassured her that no one would be able to enter his chambers, let alone his study without his permission, and he would be immediately aware if anyone even tried.
He had then left, and Hermione had returned to her research. She had obviously not found anything important that afternoon, as soon the memory had dimmed, and suddenly it was about 4 hours later and Snape was returning. There were a stack of notes that she had written during the course of the day that Hermione knew she would have access to so at least she wasn't going over the same information needlessly.
Snape had given her a copy of Beedle the Bard, which she'd tucked away for later reading, before returning to her work. After dinner, however, she had curled up with a couple of books in the armchair opposite Snape, who had also been reading. Hermione had been rather amused to note the way both of them were surreptitiously watching each other, stealing occasional glances or staring covertly until they were caught. Then she would smile shyly at him and his face would soften slightly, before they would turn their attention back to their books.
Eventually, however, it got late, and Snape had reluctantly put his book away and told her it was time. He had led her into the bedroom and disappeared into his lab for a few minutes while she had got herself ready for bed and climbed under the sheets. Snape had re-entered the room, sitting down on the bed next to her and placing the two phials full of potions, as well as one empty one on the bedside table. He had taken a few minutes to explain what she needed to do, and how he would remove her memories.
He had then reached across for the first potion, the one that was his own version of a calming draught that she still took nightly, and she had knocked it back quickly. As he had reached across for the sleeping draught she had thrown her arms around him once again, and after a moment's pause, he had pulled the sheets up around her naked body before pulling her closer and whispering quietly into her ear. Hermione had only been able to make out part of what he had said, but she had heard promises to take care of her as well as possible and more apologies for the behaviour that was forced upon him by the circumstances.
After a while she had been able to pull away from him and look up into his eyes, obviously trying hard to keep a brave face on. He had given her the sleeping draught, and then encouraged her to lay back on the pillows while they waited for it to begin to take hold. She had grabbed his hand and whispered her forgiveness. Then he'd taken his wand and held it to her head, and begun to remove her memories. The room had begun to grown dark as the draught took hold. The last thing Hermione had seen clearly was Snape gently pressing his lips to her forehead before he whispered, "Obliviate."
The half-drunk cup of tea in Hermione's hand had now gone cold, and she placed it back onto the desk, looking over at Snape, who was still reading his book. His long hair was falling forward into his eyes, and as she watched he carelessly brushed it aside. Hermione smiled as it only fell back into the same position. She sighed quietly. I wish I understood how I feel. Is this real? And how does he feel about me?
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Memories of Deception