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Dark Gods In The Blood	By : Hayseed Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: None for this
chapter, actually. Thanks for reading.

Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.

Rating: R, for intermittent
dark themes, violence, and language

Disclaimer: Nothing
you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me. Harry Potter and his cronies are the
property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not
me). All chapter headings are properly
credited to their sources.

Dark Gods in the Blood

by: Hayseed (hayseed_42@hotmail.com)

Chapter Six

They
were dying slowly -- it was very clear.
They were not

enemies, they were not criminals, they were
nothing earthly

now --
nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation,

lying
confusedly in the greenish gloom.

-- Joseph Conrad,
Heart of Darkness

Perhaps it was Nicholas Potter�s brief recovery from muteness that sent
Hermione back to Yorkshire the following week.
As she pulled her fingertips back from the Portkey, staggering in the
aftermath of the trip, she told herself rather convincingly that it was, not
wanting to try and guess about possible deeper motives.

Certainly the outburst had been shocking -- frightening, even. It had taken Fran�oise no less than an hour
to completely calm the child. His
scream had escalated quickly into keening, hysterical sobs. Ron, of course, had immediately busied
himself with a now squalling Alice, who had decided to join her brother�s
already deafening cacophony.

For her own part, Hermione just watched.

Nicholas, eventually soothed, was allowed to escape upstairs and Alice
was put to bed as her fussing became of a more petulant, sleepy nature. The adults moved to the sitting room, pale
and unsettled, sipping at coffee and trying desperately to pretend that the
evening had been pleasant.

�I�m sorry,� Fran�oise had attempted to say. �I don�t know what got into them tonight.�

Shortly after, Hermione left, Apparating back to London and stretching
out on the hotel bed. That half-animal,
fearful look in Nicholas� eyes haunted her -- she didn�t know what to make of
it.

What had she done to provoke such a reaction?

In truth, Hermione wasn�t even sure that Nicholas knew just exactly who
she was. She hadn�t introduced herself
to him and she had no way of knowing if he�d made the connection on his own.

But that look in his eyes.

Even if it wasn�t the entire reason her feet were currently carrying
her continually closer to Perkins Hospital for the Mentally Challenged, it was
a large part of it.

The receptionist offered her a warm smile as the door clattered
open. �Good morning,� she said. �I remember your face, miss, but I�m afraid
I don�t recall your name.�

Hermione was oddly gratified at the �miss.� At thirty-one, she knew she probably didn�t have many more years
to be addressed as such. �Hermione
Granger,� she supplied with a pleasant smile.
�I�m here to see --�

�Severus Snape,� the woman interrupted. �I do remember that
much. Poor fellow -- he has so few
visitors. You remember what to do?�

Nodding, Hermione toed off her shoes and began emptying out her
pockets. She�d actually gone out and
bought a thick pair of socks this morning before leaving London, recalling the
cold hospital floor tiles with a shiver.

�And your wand, too, my dear,� the receptionist reminded her, putting
the shoes into a box.

Not five minutes later, she was ushered into the same little room she�d
met Snape in before. She noted with
some relief that if the tiles were cold today, her feet did not notice it.

He was already seated -- at the exact same table as before,
actually. Giving her a curious look, he
lifted an eyebrow as she slid into the chair opposite his.

They resumed their staring match from the previous week, a corner of
Snape�s mouth quirking at what Hermione suspected was a rather sullen scowl on
her face. She willed her expression not
to change, not wanting to relinquish that small bit of control to him.

Seconds stretched into eternal minutes. Having once again lost track of time, Hermione blinked and broke
away from Snape�s eerily calm stare.

This was stupid.

The chair scraped loudly against the tiles as she pushed it back in
preparation to stand. But Hermione
froze in place as Snape actually began to speak.

�I have been thinking,� he said matter-of-factly, �about who you are.�

Her shock at hearing words come out of his mouth was so great that she
found herself actually quite literally unable to form a coherent sentence. Deciding that it would be best not to
gibber, she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

And he did. In that same dry,
pedantic set of classroom tones she remembered from a childhood that seemed
further away by the second. �I will
admit that there is something ... oddly familiar in your appearance,� he
admitted. �But I doubt that you are one
of my infernal cousins. They have not
bothered to claim me for more years than I care to count.�

Again, she waited quietly as he paused, whether for effect or to
breathe, she did not know.

�My conclusion, therefore, is that that fool Cuthrell has sent you in
to spy on me. Well, you may tell him
that I have no more to say to him than I have previously. Good day to you, madam,� he said in a
clearly dismissive tone.

She did not know whether to be amused or angry. In the end, her reaction was mixed. �I don�t know what you�re talking about,�
she replied coldly, finding her voice finally.

His eyes narrowed. �Do not play
me for a simpleton, please. I may be a
resident of a mental institution, but that in no way brands me an idiot.�

�I never said that you were, sir,� she said truthfully.

A fist slammed down on the table suddenly, shades of the Snape she
remembered more and more apparent in his behavior. �I will not talk to
Cuthrell!�

�Who is Cuthrell?� she asked,
trying to placate him with the same calm look he�d been disconcerting her with
so effectively before.

�Your employer, I�m sure,� he sneered, rearranging his hands on top of
the table. �You are casting aspersions
on my intellect again, madam.�

She stared at him openly, guilelessly.
�Truly, sir, I don�t know anyone who goes by that name. My name is --�

�I do not care what your name
is, you little fool!� he cried, exasperated.
�Run away and tell Cuthrell that his games are not working.�

�But --� she tried, half-afraid of his irate reaction. This Snape was out-of-control -- if she�d
been frightened of him in her youth, it was nothing to what she was feeling in
the pit of her stomach right now.

Is he dangerous? she�d asked.

Only to himself, the woman had replied.

Hopefully that was true.

�Get out,� he said in a low voice.
�Get the fuck out of here!�

Startled by the uncharacteristic expletive, Hermione found herself
complying rapidly, beating a hasty retreat and hating the smile on his face as
she left.

-- -- -- --
--

Only caring that she was out of that room, Hermione didn�t notice the
man standing beside the door until she�d actually run into him. Pondering how she�d suddenly gone from
standing to sprawled on the ground, the man had to speak before she realized he
was there.

�I�m sorry,� he said, holding out a hand.

Ignoring it, she pulled herself to her feet. �It�s not your fault,� she replied. �Actually, I should be the
one apologizing -- I ran into you.�

�Not at all,� he said blandly.
�In fact, I ought to be thanking you.�

�What for?� she asked, mystified.

The man smiled, highlighting his already handsome features. �I�m Jake Cuthrell.�

�Oh ...� she said, considering this.
�You�re Cuthrell, then. Why is --?�

�Why is Severus so insistent that he not speak with me?� the man --
Cuthrell -- asked, completing her question for her. Another radiant smile -- Hermione was beginning to suspect he was
trying to charm her. �I�m his doctor,�
he said.

�Doctor?� she echoed, hoping he�d elaborate.

He glanced around the corridor with a somewhat furtive look in his
eyes, gaze finally coming to rest on the still form of Snape through the
window, not moving from his previous position.
�Perhaps we should have this discussion in my office.�

Frowning, Hermione followed Cuthrell down the hall, through a number of
doors. She eventually found herself
sitting in a rather uncomfortable wooden chair in a richly paneled office,
Cuthrell fixing her with a penetrating gaze from across his desk that only
increased her discomfort.

�Right,� he said, shuffling a few papers around and plucking out a few
apparently pertinent ones. �As I said,
I�m Jake Cuthrell, Severus� primary therapist.
I know from the records that your name is Hermione Granger, but your
relationship to the patient is listed only as �friend.� If you wouldn�t mind ...?� he led.

Shrugging, she stared at his desktop, tracing the whorls in the grain
with her eyes. �I knew him many years
ago,� she said. �When I heard where he
was, I just wanted to see him. Dr.
Cuthrell --�

�Jake,� he supplied warmly.

�Dr. Cuthrell,� she repeated firmly.
�Would you please tell me what�s happened to him? He was always intense, but this ... this
...�

Cuthrell coughed rather self-importantly, giving his papers another
good shuffle. �Well, Hermione ...�

Miss Granger! she wanted to shout, voice stuck in her throat.

�Hermione, I�m afraid that Severus is a rather complex case. He�s been here for the better part of five
years and has spent most of that time steadily refusing treatment.�

�Treatment?� she echoed carefully.

Sighing the sigh of one heavily put upon, Cuthrell finally took his
hands off the papers and Hermione glanced up to see the martyred expression on
his face. �Despite our best efforts,
Severus� depression is complete and devastating. We have resigned ourselves to merely preventing his suicide
attempts. Of which there have been
many.�

�He�s suicidal, then,� Hermione said.
Only to himself.

�He was committed invtaritarily,� Cuthrell explained, �after having
swallowed copious amounts of rather painful poisons on no less than four
separate occasions. We have not managed
to ascertain the reasons for Severus� rather severe depression.�

She could not contain her curiosity.
�Why not?�

He frowned. �Hermione, Severus
Snape has not spoken a dozen words in the last year. Before that, he would talk sporadically but absolutely refused to
discuss anything related to his treatment.
Fortunately, we no longer have to feed him with an IV.�

Hermione gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. She could barely believe what her old
professor had come to. Narrowing her
eyes, she tried to glare at Cuthrell.
�While I appreciate your candor, Dr. Cuthrell,� she said. �I confess I do not understand why you are
choosing to disclose this obviously sensitive information to me.�

With a little chuckle, he resumed rattling papers, pushing several into
a manila folder she hadn�t noticed under the mess. �You see, Hermione, you are the first person Severus has openly
spoken to in five years. I am curious
as to why and anything you could do to enlighten me on the subject would be
helpful.�

Wrinkling her brow in confusion, she considered his words. �I am as confused as you are,� she admitted
slowly. �He and I were never particularly close.�

�Nevertheless,� Cuthrell continued breezily, �I would also appreciate
any further efforts on your part.�

Her eyes widened. �Are you
asking me to spy on him for you?�

�That�s unnecessarily harsh, Hermione,� he replied with a small
wince. �I am simply asking for
assistance in Severus� successful treatment.
Surely a friend of his would be
willing.�

Standing, she felt her back muscles sigh gratefully as they were released
from the confines of that horrible chair.
�No wonder he thought you sent me,� she said tightly. �Dr. Cuthrell, if Professor Snape won�t talk
to you, I believe that�s between you and him.
Goodbye, sir.� She turned on her
heel and walked toward the door, not noticing him mouth the word Professor with a question in his eyes.

But his voice was menacing as he called to her back. �I can restrict your visits, ioneione. You�ll never set eyes on him again.�

She turned around again to glare at him. �You wouldn�t do that, Dr. Cuthrell.�

�Try me.� He gave her a wolfish
grin.

�First of all,� she said, returning his grin with a deceptively sweet
smile, �he will see that as confirmation of his suspicions and you�ll never get
another word out of him. And second
...�

�Yes?� he prompted impatiently, apparently unconvinced.

�I wonder what Albus Dumbledore would think if he heard about it,� she
said breezily, smile widening.

Cuthrell�s mouth fell open.
�How do you know Albus Dumbledore?�
he asked scornfully. �For that matter,
how do you really know Professor Snape?�

She laughed then, delighted that he hadn�t recognized her name. �You�re right,� she said in a derisive
tone. �He hasn�t told you anything if he hasn�t mentioned Harry
Potter.�

Hermione deliberately shut the door as she walked out of Cuthrell�s
office.

-- -- -- --
--

He was still there. As Hermione
made her way back through the hallway, she saw Snape still seated languidly in
the little visiting room.

Taking a deep breath, she made an impulsive choice and pushed the door
open, stepping into the room and offering Snape a half-hearted smile. �Hallo,� she tried.

His face settled a f a familiar scowl. �I saw you squirrel away with Cuthrell,� he accused.

�First time I�d laid eyes on him, personally,� she said, sitting
down. �He�s rather unpleasant, isn�t
he?�

Eyes narrowing, the scowl deepened.
�You will not placate me with such blathering nonsense.�

�Of se nse not,� she retorted.
�That was not actually my intention, sir. I was merely stating fact.
He is unpleasant.�

Snape did not rise to her bait, choosing instead to continue to glare
at her in silence.

�Although ...� Hermione began thoughtfully, �he did share a few
pertinent points on your condition with me.
I am sorry.�

�Sorry?� he echoed with a sharp bark of laughter. �Whatever for?�

�Probably just in general,� she said.
�Although I wish I could say that I feel sorry for what has happened to
you -- I just don�t think you�d take it well.�

He frowned and Hermione got the startling impression that if he were
forty years younger, he�d stick his tongue out at her. �You are rather convinced of your own
cleverness, aren�t you,� he sneered.
�Who are you, anyway?�
- 6
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- 8
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Dark Gods In The Blood