Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unintentional Inveiglement	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 130141 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters and making no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 58
- 59
- 60
A/N: Sorry! I have a good explanation for not updating in two months (I'm sooooo sorry). One, I had to binge write on a fic for the SSHG giftfest (how the hell I did 20k in a short amount of time I know not) but this means you will have a new holiday fic from me soon. Two, In the midst of writing, I've been getting migraines that recently became so bad that I couldn't read, write, knit, or focus on ANYTHING without feeling like I was going to puke my head off or topple off the earth. As it turns out, I needed glasses. I got my glasses yesterday (the other half has been calling me 'professor' ever since) and I was able to finish this chapter :D I wish it was longer but I refuse to delay updates.
Once again I thank you sooo much for the lovely reviews because they light fire under my butt and make me want to write faster! Thank you dear friends!
A friend and fellow writer named Storyplease created a lovely piece of artwork for me and I will post it to my facebook (onecelestialbeing) if you'd like to see it, and also to my tumblr.
RL, nope it's not been abandoned ;) trust me, it will NEVER be abandoned!!!!

Snape awoke with a start the following morning. Immediately he reached out to touch Hermione, and was shocked to find her side of the bed cold and empty. Panicked and sitting up so abruptly that it made him dizzy, Snape saw that Hermione was lying at the foot of his bed, curled into a tiny ball as though she was cold or trying to protect herself from something else. A bundle of orange fur sat an inch away from her head, also curled up.
"Hermione, are you all right?" Snape asked, wondering if some sort of distress had been the reason for her waking up.
When no answer was forthcoming, Snape remembered that Hermione would not, or could not speak, either option still up for debate.
It was then that Snape considered the possibility of having to go through a daily routine of reminding Hermione who he was, who she was, and where they were. It wasn't as though he minded; he would go to the ends of hell and back for her. Yet it was hard to ignore the level of frustration he felt, knowing that the closeness and intimacy they once shared had been destroyed, all from a malicious spell.
Loki had been sleeping atop Severus' feet, something he hadn't noticed until moving to sit next to Hermione. The feline yowled his displeasure at being ejected from his cosy spot, and relocated to another area of the bed.
It appeared as though Hermione had been asleep, but after propping himself up on one hand to peer down into her face, Snape found that Hermione was awake, as was Crookshanks, and the two appeared to be engaged in some sort of strange stare-off.
"Hermione," Snape began, reaching out to touch her hand, which was trembling and ice cold against his. Her feet were just as frigid, if not more, and Snape easily pulled Hermione into his arms and resituated her beneath the blankets. "Don't look at me like that," he grumbled when Crookshanks' head shot up, his yellow eyes narrowed at the professor. "You ought to be ashamed, cat. You woke me up over the past year for every damned reason in the book, none of which were important as your mistress freezing off her toes. Sit on my head next time if you must. Bite my hair, flick your tail at my nose, but at least wake me up!"
Crookshanks growled in agreement before sauntering his way up to Hermione, plopping down atop her blanket-covered legs. Loki had been watching everything from across the bed and not to be left out, he crept over and plopped down beside Crookshanks.
Leaving Hermione, even for a short time was the last thing Snape wanted to do, but some semblance of patrol needed to take place, if for nothing but to make sure that the Carrows weren't taking liberties with tormenting students in the headmaster's absence.
"I'm going to shower, Hermione. I won't be long. You two look after her," Snape added to the cats.
Hermione stared blankly as Snape spoke to her, but as he began making his way toward the door, the faintest glimmer of what he assumed to be panic showed in her eyes.
"I'm not leaving you, Hermione, I'll be less than one door away," he reassured, gesturing to the bathroom that was a few paces away from the bedroom. "I'll leave the door open; you'll be able to hear me."
Snape got the impression that Hermione didn't want him to leave her side at all, much less for a few minutes to allow him to bathe. He felt guilty as she mournfully stared in his direction, and Snape had to force himself to walk out, the entire time wondering when the hell he had turned into the world's biggest bleeding heart.
Making every effort to shower and shave swiftly enough to keep Hermione from panicking, yet not so fast that he would nick himself with the blade, Snape hurried back to the bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist. The moment he set foot inside, he felt like an arse, hoping that the sight of his half-naked body wouldn't cause Hermione further distress. Snape had no idea what to expect, yet was mollified when Hermione's eyes met his, never veering lower than his neck. He attempted to use discretion when stepping into a clean pair of boxers, all the while keeping the towel securely in place.
Hermione continued looking on as Snape finished dressing. Once his cravat was tied and the last button beneath it fastened, Snape moved to exit the bedroom again and immediately noticed Hermione's eyes growing wide. It was becoming clear that no matter how many times he attempted to reassure Hermione that he was only leaving the room temporarily, she would continue to experience some degree of panic. This time he tried another tactic, walking over to Hermione and tugging the blankets off her legs. A pair of his own thick, woollen socks, which proved to be too large and rode high above Hermione's ankles, were tugged over her feet.
"I really need to find you some proper clothes," Snape remarked after locating an old dressing gown and helping Hermione into it. Not surprising, his room was absent of women's clothing, and not even a forgotten jumper of Hermione's remained behind. The two had always made sure that Hermione didn't leave any personal items in his chambers, purely owing to the possibility of some wizard other than Snape forcing their way into his rooms. Yet he told himself that Hermione couldn't wear a nightshirt and dressing gown the entire time, and Snape made a mental note to procure something a little more substantial.
With Hermione now dressed (in a manner of speaking), Snape led her down from the bed, out the bedroom and into the bathroom where he gently cleaned her face with a warm, damp flannel. Breakfast followed, and Snape had to remind himself to remain calm when Hermione became stubborn and turned her face away from the spoon.
"You have to eat, Hermione," Snape told her, dropping the half-filled spoon back into the bowl of porridge. "Now don't tell me you don't like porridge, because I've watched you eat it more times than I can count."
Still, Hermione's lips pursed against the spoon when Snape brought it up to her mouth again, thus severely testing his patience and forcing him to bite the inside of his cheek lest he say something harsh.
"Hermione," Snape began in a voice of forced calm, "I can make you eat if needed but I won't. I need you to get better, but you have to want it yourself. Now should you become sick bringing you to Pomfrey is not an option, and the other alternative is a Muggle hospital where they'll shove tubes and all sorts of things down your throat and into your arms, not to mention the abysmal lack of security and the fact that you are essentially a walking target. You wouldn't last a day under Muggle care, and furthermore, I'll be damned to let you out of my sight again."
Hermione stared unblinkingly at Snape for the entire duration of his mini tirade. At first the professor was unsure if his words had any effect on the witch, but then she slowly parted her lips whilst looking straight at him.
"I know you aren't yourself at the moment, but we are going to do everything possible to get you back there," Snape told Hermione in what he hoped was a convincing tone while feeding her tiny spoonfuls of porridge. And should something happen to me, I wouldn't know where to begin if I needed to find someone to properly look after you.
Once the bowl was empty, Hermione's hands and face were cleaned with the linen serviette that had accompanied the breakfast tray. By then Snape only had time for a rushed cup of coffee, which was swallowed in three gulps that left his mouth and throat on fire. Swearing as he stalked his way to the bedroom, Snape scanned the area until his eyes fell upon the very thing he'd come to collect.
"The moment I feel teeth, it's over," Snape threatened, even though his hands were careful as he collected Crookshanks into his arms. The cat had been dozing at the foot of his bed and ignoring Loki, who was repeatedly patting one paw against Crookshanks' head, wanting to play. "I have to patrol," Snape explained to the half-kneazle as he sat him down next to Hermione on the sofa. "I won't be long but I need you to look after my girl. I trust your ability to find me should trouble arise."
Yellow eyes lingered on the pair of black. Crookshanks then blinked slowly and draped half his body over Hermione's leg. The hearth was revived with a flick of Snape's wand and after dropping a blanket around Hermione's shoulders,he hurriedly made his way out his room.

"I'm telling you, it doesn't matter what House you've been sorted into. Those two are out for blood no matter what you say, and they don't give a damn who they get it from."
Scoffing loudly, the other student dropped down onto the sofa opposite his housemate and began loosening his tie.
"You've always been one to exaggerate, Evie. Perhaps if you actually did as you were told then you wouldn't have a problem."
"And perhaps if you could take your head out of your arse as well as Draco Malfoy's, you would be able to see what's clearly going on right in front of your face! And speaking of Draco Malfoy, there's a reason he's not at school now, if you recall. Malfoy thought he was so untouchable and look at him now."
One perk of being headmaster was that Snape had a nearly unlimited amount of freedom when it came to moving about the castle. Rooms that he had never noticed before were now apparent, along with newly discovered secret passageways that not even Potter's Marauders map displayed. That was one thing Dumbledore left out, the many ways the school's headmaster could skulk about unnoticed. One thing it did prohibit was admittance into the student dormitories and staff personal quarters, which was a relief. Otherwise all other areas were open for his viewing only.
Snape spent a good portion of morning conversing with Dumbledore's portrait, and the remainder of it and most of his afternoon handling other unpleasant tasks. Only once was he able to slip down to the dungeons and to his rooms to check on Hermione, and she had been asleep on the sofa with Crookshanks and Loki also asleep atop her back. Now it was evening, just after dinner, and Snape stood in a space behind the portrait in the Slytherin common room. For the first few minutes of his secret visit, nothing happened. Then two of his former students stalked their way into the room and paused near the hearth, hotly engaged in debate.
Eveline Anderson, also known as Evie to her close friends, as well as Damian Jones, were both in their last year at Hogwarts. Evie had always been sort of a loner, only joining in when needed but staying to herself for the most part. She was quiet, unobtrusive, yet had a sharp eye and a sharper mind that noticed most things which went ignored by everyone else. Damian, on the other hand, had immediately showed himself to be nothing more than a social climber, ready to do whatever it took to charm himself into the good graces of anyone who held a so-called high status in wizarding society. Snape always thought the young man to be somewhat simple, and fortunately for him, so did Draco Malfoy. Damian never made it to Malfoy's inner circle, yet it did not stop him from giving a disgusting show of kowtowing whenever the blond was near.
After everything that happened since the start of the school year, it was amazing to listen to Damian whenever he spoke. Clearly brainwashed, as he believed that the Carrows were actually doing their job, Damian was naive enough to state that the children who suffered at the Carrows' hands were to blame.
"I don't pretend to know everything that happened with Malfoy, but if he'd been a little more circumspect then maybe he wouldn't be so far up the spout. He always did have a big mouth, just like you."
"You're an idiot, do you know that?" Evie challenged, apparently fed up with conversing with Damian. "And I'm sorry that I don't agree with the idea of hexing little kids, actually, I'm not sorry, but it's unconscionable to purposely bleed someone just because they know right from wrong."
"Yeah, and look at where your martyrdom got you." Damian nodded towards Evie's freshly scarred left hand. "Meanwhile here I am without a single scratch."
"For now," Evie replied in a stubborn voice. "But if and when Harry Potter does win, what do you think is going to happen to you when the dust settles? Do you think people are going to forget about who hurt them and who didn't?"
"So that's your angle, you're worried about people not seeking their revenge on you. A bit cowardly, I think, but somewhat understandable."
Evie covered her face with her right hand and let out a groan of despair.
"You are hopeless, Damian. Utterly hopeless and I am through with this conversation. Now if you'll excuse me I need to find some Dittany for my hand. I would sneak up to the hospital wing but if I got caught then I'd hear it from Slughorn, and Slughorn'll hear it from Snape, and he's so scared of the headmaster that I'd land myself with yet another detention."
"Quite the predicament, Anderson, wouldn't you say?" Damian asked, smirking as he rose from the sofa. With nothing else to say, he remained silent while reaching into an inner pocket of his robes. "Just remember that the only reason you received a few lines as punishment is because of your House. Had you been into Hufflepuff or even worse, Gryffindor, then your arse would still be shrieking and writhing around on the floor like a gutted fish." With that, Damian withdrew a tiny glass bottle from his robes—a bottle of Dittany—and tossed it in Evie's direction. Evie looked as though she wanted to tell Damian off, yet offered a begrudging 'thank you' before unstoppering the bottle, hissing as she dropped the clear liquid onto her injury.
Witnessing the exchange between Damian and Evie wasn't all that shocking to the headmaster. Some assumed that being sorted into Slytherin automatically meant that said sorted individuals went along with anything. They also went with the blind assumption that being in Slytherin also meant not falling victim to the cruel attention of the Carrows. That couldn't be farther from the truth, as proved by Miss Anderson as well as countless others in Slytherin. Of course, many weren't quite as vocal as Evie, as they strove to avoid any sort of punishment, be it from their parents or the Carrows. However, fact remained that they were still children, children who were scared of anyone who operated beneath Voldemort's thumb. Being in Slytherin meant nothing if a person refused to wholeheartedly follow the Dark Lord and his new regime, as proved by plenty of families whose elaborate homes had been raided before mysteriously going up into flames.
Eavesdropping and overhearing conversations like so was one of many reasons for Snape sneaking around. His staff was less likely to speak freely in his presence, and the students were even more tight-lipped. Evie had not yet gone full blown militant, but hearing her speak so openly about what she deemed right and wrong reminded Snape of his duties. While her sentiments might have worked unless less dire circumstances, Snape found himself siding more with Damian, who, as he neatly pointed out, didn't have so much as one scar upon his person. Damian's explanation about why he chose to mind only his affairs might not have sounded very noble, but it was the first step in keeping himself out of harm. In the headmaster's opinion, Evie would do well to follow her friend's advice. At the very least it would save her the trouble of being forced to write lines with a blood-letting quill, and the most, keep unsavoury individuals away from the Anderson family home.
The Gryffindor common room was his next stop. Since the beginning of the school year, the bulk of students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw were curiously absent from most communal areas when class was not in session. However, there were always a few stragglers in the common rooms in the evening and tonight was no exception.
An older girl sat in one of the armchairs nearest the hearth, an ottoman between her legs with a younger girl perched on it, her legs sticking out straight in front of her. Presumably they were sisters as they both had identical features and the same head of thick, unruly black curls. The older girl was clearly more adept at managing her hair because it had been pulled back into a neat, single plait that hung down her back. The younger girl, on the other hand, looked as though she had spent hours rolling around in Hagrid's vegetable patch before tussling with his boarhound. The older girl patiently used her wand on her younger sister's hair, shooting little spurts of water onto each tangled curl and going through each section with a large plastic comb. The entire time she could be heard softly chiding the girl about letting her hair get into such a state, and the girl was mute, biting her nails as she had her hair fixed.
"Stop that, Hollie," the older girl murmured, reaching around her sister to push her hand away from her mouth. "Your fingernails are filthy."
"Sophie, why did you jump in front of me today?" asked Hollie in a small voice, putting both hands in her lap as directed by her sister.
Snape was able to hear Sophie inhale slowly, and he watched as she pasted a faux smile across her face.
"Because you're my little sister and I wasn't going to let that bitch of a woman use the Cruciatus on you. Umm, don't tell Mum that I swore in front of you."
"I won't," Hollie replied, tilting her head forward as Sophie reached the bottom of one long braid.
"And don't tell her about today. She's got a lot on her mind with dad and all and the last thing we need to do is make her worry."
"I won't."
Sophie set to work on the other half of Hollie's hair, although Snape noticed that her hands were now trembling slightly. With Hollie facing the opposite direction, she was unable to see Sophie crying silently behind her head as she finished the other braid. Right before she used her wand to secure Hollie's hair, Sophie roughly wiped her face dry on her sleeve before beckoning her sister to turn around.
"Much better," she announced, tugging on the ends of Hollie's braids. "Now go and change for bed, I'll be up in a minute."
Hollie groaned at being told what to do, but a single glance from her sister was enough to send her to the steps leading up to the girls' dormitory. With no one there to witness her grief, Sophie curled in on herself in the armchair, immediately dissolving into fierce sobs yet shoving a fist between her lips to keep the sound from carrying.
Sophie wasn't the first student Snape witnessed succumbing to the pressures of being a child having been forced into an adult situation, and he knew she wouldn't be the last. Snape tried to assuage his guilt by telling himself that that he was doing his best to keep Hogwarts' students from being slaughtered, but even that seemed vacuous. Therefore, he left Sophie alone to have her cry, wondering how long it would be before this was over.
Snape lost count of the amount of times he encountered adults and children alike who had suffered by the hands of Death Eaters as well as the Dark Lord's followers. The number was infinite, it seemed, yet it still never made things any easier. He wouldn't treat an animal the way the Death Eaters treated others, and the humane part of him wept whenever he witnessed such travesties. Steeling himself so resolutely to keep that part of him hidden made him seem almost inhumane, he was sure, but there was no way he could or would let any of it show.
Sophie, Hollie, and Evie were a few of the many remaining on Snape's mind as he began the path leading down to his chambers. The unmistakeable feel of magic crackling throughout the unlit room was noticeable from the moment he walked through the door, followed by the very much tangible sensation of something long and tapered rushing forward and striking his forehead.
Immediately he knew the cause for the flurry of activity and jabbed his wand into the air, causing objects to fall to the floor in a loud clatter. Another swish of his wand and the wall sconces sprang to life, displaying Hermione, who was alone on the floor beside the narrow sofa, trembling like a leaf with both arms thrown across the back of her head.
Books and papers littered the floor, and a quick glance across the room was all Snape needed to see that his desktop was completely bare, its contents having been magically tossed about. Loki and Crookshanks were nowhere to be found, likely having run off in order to not have their tiny, furry heads smacked with flying objects. A few books were open and face down next to Hermione, one of which had its spine bent at a severe angle. The blanket, which was previously wrapped around Hermione, now lay in a torn, tangled heap on the sofa, one jagged corner dangling off the edge.
"Hermione," Snape called, softly so as not to scare her. Remembering the potential danger of her wandless abilities, he maintained his distance until she looked up, and his gut twisted at the sight of her red eyes and tear-stained face. Hermione's chin wobbled when she saw the headmaster standing across from her, and a fresh round of tears cascaded down her cheeks. "I apologise for my tardiness but I did tell you I was coming back, sweetheart."
In a flash Hermione was swept up from the floor, away from the mess, and deposited in Snape's lap when he lowered them both into an armchair. In some twisted way, Snape marvelled at the fact that his absence could drive someone into such a state of panic. In the same breath, it disturbed him greatly to know that Hermione could become so affected. Should the day come where his return was not forthcoming, the idea of her reaction left him feeling guilty in ways that he did not want to fathom.
Trying to distract himself from that guilt, Snape pulled Hermione closer until her head was beneath his chin and stroked her damp curls away from her face, smoothing his fingers across her temple until her chest no longer heaved from panic.
"You love me so much you can't bear the thought of us being parted for a few hours," Snape murmured in disbelief, pressing his cheek against the top of Hermione's curls and chuckling wryly. "Silly girl, I wonder how my life would have turned out had we crossed paths in my youth. Fate truly is a fickle mistress."
After twenty minutes passed his thigh was on the verge of going numb and Snape rearranged Hermione on his lap until they were both comfortable. Summoning and repairing the shredded blanket with his wand, Snape draped it over Hermione and tucked it around her body until only her head was exposed.
"I never planned on telling you this, and there's a chance that you might not remember this conversation tomorrow but I'm going to tell you anyway. A dotty but otherwise brilliant wizard roped me into personally keeping an eye on three teenagers who greatly contributed to the first of many grey hairs. One youth in particular, through no fault of her own, came precariously close to having her life ended on what was meant to be an uneventful trip to Flourish and Blotts."
Snape paused when Hermione shifted in his arms, sluggishly bringing up a hand between them and curling her fingers around the placket of his frock coat.
"I haven't the faintest idea of why those idiots thought it would be a good idea to let you three set one toe in Diagon Alley," he continued, bite in his tone. "They might as well have painted targets on your backs. No one could pin down a proper time for your little excursion and I had to stand around nearby for five hours until you lot showed up. Then I had to choke down Polyjuice potion, the final ingredient courtesy of a hairy, unsuspecting Muggle who looked dodgy and tasted like unwashed arse. Not that I have much experience with that particular flavour."
There was a break in conversation as Snape reflected back to that day. A low-ranking Death Eater had been in Flourish and Blotts, hidden beneath the guise of a transformation spell. The man was not a regular at meetings, but Snape made it a habit to keep a weather eye on anyone who followed the Dark Lord. To Snape it was obvious that the man, who, despite the clever disguise, was up to no good, and at the first instance where a Polyjuiced Hermione was alone and coming out of the loo, the tip of his wand was exposed between the folds of his robes and aimed in her direction. There hadn't been time to see if the so-called Auror protection was nearby, or if they were even aware of the impending attack.
Snape hadn't been thinking as he fell into step behind Hermione and wrapped his arms around her, trying to drag her to safety. The attacking wizard casted a Stinging Hex, which caught Snape in the shoulder and burned like mad, causing him to drop the young woman in his arms. Hermione wasted no time with fleeing in the direction of the Aurors, and once Snape saw that she was standing next to Tonks in the confines of relative safety, he Apparated right out of the shop.
"I tried to save you by attempting to drag you to safety, and you tried to bite me," Snape murmured, covering Hermione's hand with his. "I shudder to think what would have happened had you been able to take out your wand. Although it was a relief to feel you fighting like a wildcat when I grabbed you from behind. You looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I found you in the hallway that night, and I know I was harsh, but you have to understand that I could not allow you to go to pieces. Bringing you to my room had nothing to do with that sodding portrait; I didn't want Potter and Weasley to find you in a state. Hermione Jean Granger going off the deep end? Your little mates wouldn't be able to handle it. I know why you were crying that night, and I knew that you were still crying even after lying on the sofa and attempting to hide your face. I didn't look upon you as being weak for succumbing to your emotions then, and I don't now. Although something tells me the only thing you can fathom at the moment are your emotions, even if your mind is one large mass of bedlam."
Snape began staring into space, unaware of the way he was clenched firmly onto Hermione's hand as he lapsed into silence.
Something was coming, something big; that much was evident. Snape had the idea that the Dark Lord was deliberating withholding information, a fact which was not so shocking. Egomaniacal wizards weren't known for divulging every facet of their plans, which in turn always made Snape stay two steps ahead of everyone. With Hermione now in the picture, extra provisions had to be made, previsions that would ensure her safety even if he was no longer around.
His dark thoughts were interrupted when a soft hand touched the side of his face. Snape looked down to find Hermione gazing up at him, her eyes unsteadily focused on his mouth or nose; it was difficult to tell which. Yet when he took hold of her hand and pressed it his lips, her eyes met his.
On more than one occasion Snape ranted to the cats, his reason being that they could neither answer nor reply, and they were excellent confidantes, not being able to speak and all. Of course he felt a bit foolish in the midst of talking, but letting things out was temporarily cathartic. Confiding in Hermione, on the other hand, had never been an easy task, purely because he strove to keep her uninvolved. The little bit he did share with her let him know that Hermione was no idiot, even if her thoughts sometimes erred to the side of emotional rather than rational. Even so, right now it was easier to speak freely to Hermione, perhaps because it seemed as though she could take in only bits and pieces of his sickeningly lachrymose prose. There was still more he wanted to tell Hermione, but Snape refused, secretly retaining the hope that she would one day regain her senses and understand without limitations his feeling for her.
There were three little words that he'd never uttered to a person, not even to his mother. Not even to his friend, whom he held in high regard ever since he was a child. Eileen had never been the sort to share any sort of sentiment, something Severus never took offence to; he had grown accustomed to his mother's inexpressive behaviour. As far as Tobias Snape, the idea of his showing any sentiment towards his family was laughable. Lily Potter née Evans, likely would have taken it the wrong way had Snape told her just how much he cared for her. Pride and fear always kept him from saying how he truly felt, yet even after admitting to himself that he was living on borrowed time, Severus found that he still could not tell Hermione he loved her.
"I have no idea what's going to happen to us in the near future," Snape whispered against Hermione's hand, finding it difficult to look her in the eye yet forcing himself to do so anyway, "but I do know this: I am yours and you are mine, and nothing is going to change that."
Hermione stared at him for a long time. She lightly squeezed his hand, the only acknowledgment of what she had just been told, before letting her eyes drift closed. Snape had no idea if Hermione understood him, but it didn't prevent him from uttering his last sentence.
"Not even death."
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Unintentional Inveiglement