Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 57
- 58
- 59
A/N: Please don't beat me for this late update. Or if you do, not too hard ;) oh my god, does someone have a house-elf they can lend me? Last month and this month have severely tried my patience, but everything is coming to a nice...something and finally I'll have a little break this week. Said break includes going to an HP-themed ball (and I will be having the Slytherin cocktail, no surprise there). Thank you soo much for the reviews and please enjoy!

Snape had every intention of moving from his seat after finishing his second cup of coffee. Each time he refilled it, silently telling himself that he would get up once he was done, the moment the cup was drained he found himself reaching for the carafe once more. Only after realising that he was trying to pour liquid from an empty pot did he set it back down onto the silver tray. In hindsight, being overly caffeinated was the last thing he needed. He already felt twitchy and on edge, which would not bode well for the meeting he was supposed to have with McGonagall sometime that evening.
It was likely that the former deputy headmistress had yet another complaint about the current deputy headmaster and headmistress. McGonagall wouldn't be the only one. Snape overheard whispers from his staff the few times he showed face, yet none were bold enough to outright voice their concerns to him. McGonagall let it be known that she had a low opinion of Snape and 'those people', one of her kinder names she used to referred to the Carrows and anyone who was on their side. To make matters worse, she would say how she felt in front of Amycus, ignoring the sneer the wizard threw in her direction.
There was no way Snape would let either of the Carrows seriously harm McGonagall, but at the rate the older Scottish witch was going, she was inevitably lining herself up for some sort of nasty retaliation. Amycus was a coward and Snape knew he would only attack if McGonagall's back was turned; direct spells were designated for those weaker than him, mostly students. Alecto was not much different, taking out her rage on defenceless pupils whenever she had them cornered and away from other students and staff, yet she and her brother were stupid enough to behave as though Snape and the other professors were oblivious to everything.
However, thoughts of his and McGonagall's meeting were thwarted when Snape heard an insistent rapping at the door. An icy chill ran down his spine as he wondered who the hell was bold enough to disturb him at the ungodly hour. Wand in hand, he moved to the door and opened it a sliver.
"Severus..." the person croaked, swallowing hard. The strong odour of alcohol on their breath was hard to ignore as they had their entire body, lips included, pressed against the wooden doorframe.
Snape hesitated briefly, turning his head slightly to survey his sitting room. Just then he noticed that everything had been put back into place, likely the work of Potter's elf. He whipped his head around, turning to look at the man wavering on his feet on the other side of the threshold. "Get in here," Snape ordered brusquely after considering, opening the door all the way and allowing the other distraught wizard to stumble inside. "I assume this is no social call."
The man stood in the middle of the room, unfocused and staring off into space.
"Not exactly," he finally answered, his eyes meeting his friend's.
Snape maintained a grim disposition yet flicked a finger in the direction of an armchair. Lucius Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Actually, Snape would have preferred to not set eyes on any member of the Malfoy family, as well as those involved in the darker half of his life. Yet niceties had to be observed, if for nothing but the need to obtain information.
"Things must be desperate if you've come all the way here to see me. Which brings me to my next question: what the hell are you doing here?"
"Now is that any way to greet your favourite person?"
Snape knew that Lucius was being facetious; the two often snarked at one another, even during the most trying of times. However, the blond's voice was flat and lifeless, but the most shocking thing was the large open cut over his right eyebrow, from which bright red blood dripped steadily down Lucius' stubble-covered cheek, contrasting with his washed out skin.
"It is if he has liquor on his breath and is dripping blood all over my floors," Snape remarked icily, Summoning a bottle of Dittany and standing in front of the man. Lucius tilted his head back while staring to the side of Snape's arm, roaring when the liquid hit his open flesh.
"For goodness' sake, some warning next time!" he spat, glaring up at the headmaster.
Snape gave Lucius a wry look while replacing the cork stopper in its bottle.
"Tall orders for a person who didn't have the sense to heal themselves before flying over here," he murmured, rapping his wand with more force than necessary against Lucius' forehead to complete his work. "Now before you indulge me with the real reason for your visit, I get the sense that you need a drink."
"Already taken care of." Lucius rubbed where Snape struck him, swiping two fingers across his brow and grunting in approval. He then reached into an inner pocket and withdrew a silver flask with the Malfoy crest on it, holding it out. "It's not your favourite but I daresay it's good just the same. Care to indulge a bit?"
Snape would have said yes, only he was more interested in Lucius' reason for dropping in unexpectedly. It was clear that the man had something on his mind, something other than the punishment he obviously received that evening, but Snape hoped that part of the conversation would veer towards the past events at Malfoy Manor which included Hermione being sent to him with nearly every inch of her skin in tatters. Of course, Snape was not supposed to know about that ordeal, and it was torture to hold his tongue and pretend that everything was fine when his woman was in the next room, practically dead to the world.
Shaking his head, Snape stood a few feet away from Lucius, spine ramrod straight as he waited for the man to speak. "Getting pissed isn't going to solve anything," he remarked, watching Lucius, who appeared as though he was trying to drain his flask bone dry.
"No, but it damn sure helps," the blond averred between coughs, nostrils flaring and jaw set firmly as he tucked the flask back into his robes.
If Narcissa had her druthers, alcohol would rarely, if ever, pass her husband's lips. Given the current circumstances, her stance on spirits had somewhat abated, but Snape knew that Lucius didn't come all the way to Hogwarts merely to drink while escaping the risk of a disapproving glare from his spouse. He now appeared calm as an infant who had just been given a bottle of warm milk, slumped back on the sofa and eyeing Snape as though unsure what to make of him.
"You've not changed much since you were a boy," Lucius commented, peering at the headmaster through puffy, lowered eyelids.
Snape blinked, wondering just how much Lucius had to drink before emptying his flask. "What the hell are you on about?"
"Whenever you were distressed, you carried this look that bespoke of someone risking decapitation if they so much as glanced at you the wrong way."
"In other words, typical visage for the bat of the dungeons according to the students."
Lucius tilted his head to one side, his countenance mildly pensive. "Perhaps, but only because they don't know you like I know you."
"I regret declining your offer of a drink," Snape grunted, "especially now that I'm being forced to deal with your proclivity to mawkishness this evening."
"No, you've definitely not changed."
Snape bristled inwardly, although something told him Lucius hadn't meant it in a bad way.
"Let's begin again, shall we?" Snape began tersely, stressing each word in his next sentence. "Why are you here?"
Lucius sluggishly gestured to the air with one hand, shrugging his shoulder.
"My family and I came very close to having our throats slit open tonight," he answered in a hushed tone. "Although who's to say that it won't happen eventually? Yet tonight, I was so very sure that he was going to..." Lucius became choked up, unable to finish. Bowing his head and folding his fingers together in a mimicry of prayer, Snape listened to his harsh breathing before he spoke again. "Fucking reprobates in my house demanding gold...goblin blood all over the floor and walls...Bellatrix torturing that girl until she was no longer able to scream, and the bitch actually forced my son to stand by and watch..." Lucius's hands clutched either side of the armchair, tightening to the point where his bony knuckles were popping out. It was some time before his head jerked up, displaying an ashen face and glistening eyes. "I cannot do this anymore, Severus."
Snape's own breathing had completely paused upon hearing the mention about Bellatrix and 'that girl', and he grew dizzy until his brain reminded him to inhale.
"What happened tonight, Lucius?" he pressed, uncaring that his friend was clearly close to breaking point. "Tell me everything."
"Where shall I start? That wretched Scabior and his band of degenerates somehow managed to capture a goblin, Potter and his friends, although it didn't look like Potter at first. Weasley, however, was another story. It's damned hard not to pick out a Weasley and that ghastly hair."
"Go on."
"That girl, Granger, was with them. Had the sword of Gryffindor on her person. The sword, which, according to Bellatrix, belonged in her Gringott's vault."
"Would this be the same vault which you feinted your way into and stole the cup?"
"The very one. To be honest, I might have seen the sword in there but thought nothing of it at the time. Anyway the goblin paid for it in blood when he was unable to explain how the sword came to be removed from Bella's vault."
"And the girl?" asked Snape, striving for casual curiosity yet dimly aware of the rapidly pulsing vein at his temple.
Lucius pressed his lips together, shaking his head.
"I'm not a saint, Severus. In fact, quite far from it. But I am a father, and sometimes I need reminding that that title trumps everything."
Snape remained silent, on edge as he waited for Lucius to continue.
"It wasn't until I listened to that girl begging for her life that I realised she was little more than a child. As is Draco, Potter, Weasley, and that other one Bellatrix had locked up in my dungeon. Lovegood, I believe is her name. Bella arranged to have her brought to the manor and had a grand time smacking her around, purely because the girl's father deemed to speak ill of her beloved. Sometimes I wonder if my sister-in-law's mind ever developed past the age of eleven."
"I think we both know the answer to that."
"Precisely the reason why I've been keeping my son away from that mentally unbalanced bint. Tonight, however, was the last straw. You have no idea how close I was to summoning the Dark Lord, yet there was no way to ensure my wife and child's lives being spared. He's angry, you know. I think he knows the goblet is missing; Bellatrix definitely know it's missing, judging by the way she continuously screamed into Granger's face, demanding to know what else besides the sword had been taken from her vault."
By now Lucius was rambling, the entire time during which Snape listened and neatly compartmentalised every bit of information. If there was the slightest chance that Riddle knew about him destroying the cup, then he and Lucius would be as good as dead. That would undeniably cause a problem for his daftly unconventional relationship with the young woman secretly tucked away in his bedroom.
You can't protect her if you're dead.
"Then that bloody former house-elf of mine showed up and helped Potter to escape," Lucius droned on, reaching for his flask again and frowning when he went to take a sip and found that it was empty. "Which explains me turning up here with a split open forehead. The Dark Lord was highly displeased at their escape, and yours truly took the blame for Dobby showing up, as though I had any control over that. The only reason he was unable to Apparate back into the damned house lies with Bellatrix summoning her husband's house-elf. She made him ward the manor against outside elf magic, and Dobby was unable to return for Potter's friend. And believe me, part of me wished that he had been able to return."
A dull pain took residence in Snape's chest at the exact same time a burning sensation began in his left forearm. Lucius muttered something under his breath, his last bit of bravo dissolving upon being summoned by the Dark Lord.
"Perfect bloody timing," Snape said shakily under his breath. He felt as nervous as Lucius looked, yet excused himself and silently hastened to the bedroom, jerking his wand behind him to lock the door. It was hard to ignore the feeling that he might not return from this meeting. Resisting the urge to scream, Snape grabbed a fistful of hair, allowing himself a second to feel the weight of every emotion pressing upon him. His legs moved of their own accord over to the bed, where Hermione lie asleep, Loki and Crookshanks curled at her side. Snape drew in an unsteady breath as he bent down to none-too gently cup Hermione's face between both hands, pressing a hard kiss onto the top of her hair, then her forehead. He had to leave; there was no way Death Eaters were allowed to keep the Dark Lord waiting. Even so, the hand roughly caressing Hermione's cheek unwillingly removed itself, yet not before delicately brushing a thumb over the silken skin. He didn't expect Hermione to stir from the contact, but that wasn't enough to tamp down the shred of hope that she would open her eyes.
Defeated and disappointed, Snape let go of his lover and stood up. Then, just as he had done countless times in the past, he willed his mind clear of every thought, every sentiment, good and bad.
"Dobby!" Snape hissed in a barely audible voice.
Exactly three seconds passed before the house-elf popped into place before him.
"Is Professor Snape needing Dobby's help?" Dobby asked shrilly.
"Yes," the professor replied under his breath, hoping the house-elf would take the hint, while at the same time throwing on his travelling cloak. "I need you to stay with Hermione. Under no circumstances are you to leave this bedroom."
"OK, sir!"
"Keep your voice down, Dobby. Trust me, you don't want to be overheard right now."
"Why, sir, are we hiding?" Dobby queried in an exaggerated whisper that was still far too loud.
"In a manner of speaking," Snape murmured cautiously, adjusting the bedclothes concealing Hermione even though they hadn't cause to slip out of place. "Your former master is currently in my sitting room and surely you'd like to avoid a scene."
The elf became noticeably huffy, setting his jaw and bawling up his knobbly hands. "Dobby doesn't care! Dobby isn't afraid of his old master!"
"Bloody hell, elf, this is what hanging around Gryffindors does to you," Snape growled, reaching down to clap his hand over Dobby's mouth. "I know you aren't afraid, but do stop and think about the explanation I'll have to give should Malfoy overhear. Your overabundance of bravery will do nothing but get us all killed."
Dobby gasped in horror behind Snape's hand, his long ears flapping as he frantically shook his head.
"Dobby doesn't mean to cause trouble, sir!" he continued in a wobbly but mercifully, quieter, voice after Snape withdrew his hand.
"Very good. Now shut up and keep watch over Miss Granger. I'll try not to be long."
Before Dobby could say another word, Snape hurried out of the bedroom and back out to the sitting room. It appeared that Lucius hadn't overhead anything. He was hunched over in the armchair, raking one hand through his hair and giving the impression of a man being led into the forefront of battle.
"Let's go and get this over with, shall we?"
Lucius jerked his head up.
"You're not going to die tonight, Lucius."
"How do you know that?"
"I just know. Now pull yourself together and move your arse from that chair, and don't make me tell you twice."
Lucius' bloodshot eyes began darting round, as though looking for a place to hide. But when he glanced up to see Snape staring expectantly at him, his expression not that of pity, but of knowing, the blond lifted his chin in a haughty manner and rose from his seat. Yet even as he feigned confidence, Snape still had to nudge Lucius in the back to make him walk through the door.

Snape hated it when he was right, which was quite often and rarely in his favour.
The Dark Lord was livid, that much had been evident. It was made quite clear all with a few lashes of his wand in the air which, at one point left Snape and the others on their knees whilst gasping for air. The meeting had been nothing more than an opportunity for Riddle to throw a tantrum because he hadn't been able to catch Potter. At least Snape drew the conclusion that Riddle knew nothing of his cup's whereabouts. And most importantly, he was alive.
Along the course of Riddle's ranting, Snape had serious doubts about the chances of leaving Malfoy Manor unscathed. The Death Eaters had been subjected to the Dark Lord's bouts of anger, but the temper he displayed tonight had been exceptional. Bellatrix, shockingly enough, had also managed to look frightened, as though she was on the verge of being punished by her beloved, yet still took time to pointedly stare in Snape's direction, her harsh features twisted into a triumphant smirk. The urge to reach over and slowly strangle the life out of Bellatrix was strong, but the knowledge that she had not shared his little secret forced him to remain calm. It left him disconcerted, as he knew the reasons for Bellatrix not telling had nothing to do with benevolence. Odds were she planned on blackmailing him at some point, but Snape had no qualms about murdering her if necessary.
When Snape was finally free to return to Hogwarts, the clear, inky night sky had begun diluting into a deeper blue. Usually when he had to leave the school for an unforeseen length of time, Filch was covertly made aware. The caretaker (and Mrs. Norris, for there was no denying that she was not a help of sorts), had the ability to find wayward students out of bed before the Carrows were able to, although even that had become a rare occurrence. However, because the headmaster had been forced to make an abrupt exit without alerting Filch, the knowledge that the caretaker was prone to making rounds instead of sleeping was Snape's only hope that no pupils fell to the clutches of sinister hands during his absence.
Pain continued radiating throughout his body as he hurried to his room. The hearth had burned out in the sitting room, leaving behind a sour-smelling chill. Snape didn't bother relighting it, as he had every intention of remaining in his bedroom with Hermione. Yet the moment he stepped inside, his eyes honed in on the bed which was devoid of half its pillows, duvet cover, and most importantly, Hermione. Within the next second Snape's vision honed in on the overturned chair, table resting wrong side up, as well as books covering half his floor, and he withdrew his wand while advancing further into the room.
Breathing hard and terrified at what he might find, Snape cautiously drew closer without making a sound. Finally he rounded the other side of his bed, lowering his wand ever so slightly after finding the unexpected sight occupying his floor.
"Sir, you're back!" Dobby greeted in a cheerful but hushed tone. The elf was sitting on the floor, the duvet cover surrounding him and his charge, his legs concealed by a pillow that was covered in a tangle of brown curls. Loki and Crookshanks were also atop the duvet, snuggled against one another and sleeping inches away from the other two.
"Dobby? What the devil happened while I was gone?" Snape demanded, shoving his wand back into his sleeve and stooping down to take Hermione into his arms.
Hermione was still asleep, curled up on her side with both arms hugging a huge swath of black material to her chest. Crookshanks had been closest to her and awoke with a start, disdainfully glaring up at the headmaster for removing his source of heat. Most of the material, as well as the duvet, was tangled around Hermione's legs as though she had been fighting both things in the midst of slumber. One of the missing pillows from Snape's bed had been shoved beneath her head, under which Dobby had been sitting, while the rest surrounded her, the cats, and the house-elf in a jumbled heap.
"Don't be mads, sir," Dobby pleaded, hopping up onto the bed and pacing back and forth as Snape set Hermione down and began looking her over. "Missy Hermy woke up and got upset when she saw that Headmaster Snape wasn't here. She didn't mean to make a mess."
Hermione looked the same as when he'd last left her, the only difference he found being the dried tears on her cheeks. Snape was in the middle of closely examining Hermione's face when his ears prickled at the knowledge of her regaining consciousness.
"What?" he spat, swivelling his head around to glare at Dobby. "Hermione woke up?"
"Yes sir," Dobby answered nervously, shrinking back as he peered over at Hermione. "A little."
"What do you mean 'a little'? How do you wake up 'a little'? And what does that have to do with the state of my bedroom?"
"Like Dobby says, sir, when Miss Hermy opened her eyes and didn't see you, she gots upset. It was an accident when she used magic and broke your bed, but Dobby fixed it."
Snape glanced to the area Dobby pointed to, although it was hard to see in the dark how badly the bedpost had been damaged.
"Dobby, tell me in detail how Miss Granger damaged the bed."
"Miss Hermy slept for ages, sir. Dobby was also tired but he made himself stay awake the whole time. Dobby didn't make a noise and he didn't move from the room, just like you said, but then Missy Hermy opened her eyes. Dobby tried to say hello but Missy Hermy did not want to answer him. So Dobby told her that she didn't have to worry, Professor Snape would come back soon, but maybe she didn't believe me because she started crying and pushed Dobby off the bed without touching him."
"You mean she magically—wandlessly—knocked you down?" Snape pressed, arching an eyebrow as he filled in the blanks.
"Yes, sir. Dobby has a lump on his head and nearly broke his fingers, but Dobby told Missy Hermy not to worry, he knews she didn't mean it."
The knowledge that Hermione was able to display strong wandless magic was news to the headmaster. It was impressive and worrying at the same time; Hermione's mental state was clearly altered, which was likely affecting her magical abilities. If a bout of crying was responsible for his bedroom left in shambles, Snape shuddered to think what things would be like if Hermione threw an all-out tantrum.
"So Missy Hermy cried and cried until Dobby gave her one of headmaster's robes. Missy Hermy cried some more but then she finally stopped and went back to sleep."
Looking more closely at the black fabric that Hermione held onto in loose fistfuls, Snape saw that she was indeed clutching onto his second set of teaching robes. He continued silently staring at her quiescent form until remembering that the house-elf, who had gone strangely quiet, was still nearby. Turning to look at Dobby, Snape found that the house-elf was on the verge of falling asleep whilst standing upright.
"Dobby," Snape called, causing the elf's head to snap up.
"Headmaster, sir?"
"Thank you for tonight. You didn't have to stay awake, but thank you all the same. Now I have one more request before you go to bed. I need you to find something for Miss Granger to eat, but nothing too heavy."
"Does headmaster wants something to eat as well, sir?"
Here we go again. "No, Dobby."
Perhaps exhaustion stopped the elf from nagging, because he Disapparated without argument. Snape paused momentarily to rub his burning eyes, shaking off the urge to lie down. He wanted to remain awake should Hermione open her eyes again. As it were, she had been unconscious for far too long, and he knew that her body required some sort of nourishment.
In spite of the ludicrous hour, Dobby swiftly returned with a large tray that contained a steaming bowl of broth, a few hunks of bread, and another plate heaped with sandwiches. Knowing that the latter was meant for him, Snape distastefully eyed the tray, which hovered midair inches away from his head. Yet before he could protest, Dobby popped out of view.
"Damned...meddling..." Snape grunted, using one finger to move the tray into a more accessible position. Extending an arm reminded him that he was still fully dressed, travelling cloak and all, and Snape quickly remedied the situation. Sitting back down on the bed, he then carefully pulled Hermione into his arms, doing his best to not jostle her too much.
"All right, Miss Granger, you and I are going to have a little chat. I have no idea if you can hear me," he began, hyper-aware of how unsteady his voice sounded, "but I am going to speak anyway. It doesn't matter that what I'm about to say is undoubtedly going to sound completely uncharacteristic for me, and unfortunately, trite, for lack of a better word, yet this needs to be said." Snape paused for a moment; he was surprised for not feeling foolish for talking so openly to the unconscious young woman. At the same time, even though he had a snowball's chance in hell at Hermione understanding him, trying to verbalise his thoughts in a way that didn't make him sound like an arse proved to be quite difficult.
"You told me you loved me and now I have no idea if you know who I am. Hell, I have no idea if you even know who you are. But I swear on everything I hold dear to me, if you leave me alone in this godforsaken cesspool of a world, I will find a way to make you pay, even if it means haunting you for all eternity in the afterlife."
Snape stared down into Hermione's face as though it would force her to awaken, and gnashed his teeth when there was no forthcoming sign of awareness.
"Don't do this to me, Hermione. Wake up!"
Even with Snape yelling in her face, Hermione remained unchanged, her head dangling like a yoyo hanging from the end of its string when she was roughly shaken by the shoulders.
Snape was not thinking straight as he withdrew his wand. He had no idea if using a simple spell would help to rouse Hermione's sense, but decided to bypass theory and take his chances. The first few rounds of Rennervate were effective as a mouse trying to take down a troll. By the sixth casting, Snape felt somewhat hopeful when Hermione's lashes fluttered against her cheek. Unfortunately he became further fatigued from the depletion of his own powers, and Snape forced himself to pause. Still there was the risk of overwhelming Hermione's fragile state with magic, and he attempted to finish reviving her the old-fashioned way.
"Damn it, Granger, come back to me," Snape implored when Hermione's eyelashes went still. "I know you're in there somewhere and if you never listen to me ever again, I need you to listen to me now. Open your eyes."
When his efforts continued to be fruitless, Snape picked up his wand again, willing to use his last bit of powers if it meant getting his witch back. Ten minutes later a dull pressure gathered at his temple, letting him know that he was pushing himself too hard, when a slight furrow formed between Hermione's brows.
"Hermione?"
There was the tiniest quiver in Hermione's eyelids, even though she kept them closed. Snape was a moment away from giving Hermione a good, hard shake to keep her from drifting away again when he was blessed with a glimpse of brown eyes.
"Hermione...sweetheart, can you hear me?"
Silence.
"Do you know where you are?"
More silence.
"You're safe... We're in my rooms and you're safe. No one knows you're here except for Potter's damned elf and your fickle familiar, but I swear on my life, no more harm will come to you."
There was no awareness in the young woman's eyes as her protector spoke. That didn't matter, because Snape found himself incapable of putting a stop to his anxious rambling. He kept his arms clasped around her body, his fingertips gently caressing her lower back.
"No, Hermione, I need you to stay awake," Snape explained, shifting Hermione upright when her eyes began drooping shut. "You need to eat lest your friends accuse me of starving you."
Hermione's eyes remained at half-mast, and he was almost sure that her bottom lip moved at the mention of food. It took some time to situate her in a proper position, as they were still in bed, but eventually Snape managed to use the headboard for support with Hermione securely in his lap. The tray Dobby brought was levitated closer, and Snape picked up the spoon, filling it halfway with the fragrant broth. Just as he was about to bring it to her lips, it occurred to him to check and see if it was too hot. It wasn't, and Snape thanked himself for avoiding a potential burn. The only person he'd ever fed had been himself, and he had no idea if he was doing everything right.
No, was his answer, when the first spoonful of broth passed Hermione's lips and immediately made her choke. Snape swore and dropped the spoon, thrusting the girl over his forearm and clapping her on the back until her weak coughing ceased.
"Sorry," the professor apologised, feeling like an idiot. "Let's try this again.
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Unintentional Inveiglement