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In Their Hands Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19649 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Oracle – I’m glad I’m not the only one hearing Lecter when writing some of Snape’s lines. ‘Cursing's not very fucking professional, it it?’ – LOL. ‘When will she see that the point of this isn't to be a better therapist? That that will come naturally when she's more whole as a person.’ – excellent piece of advice. ‘God, I love limericks. :)’ – I remembered that :) ‘Creevy and his "lost song," which is obviously helping him find himself’ – yes but you say it better than I do. ‘Was Snape's "release" the "handiwork" of Ellory, or just a natural outcome of his relaxation?’ – very good questions, perhaps we will get closer to an answer in this chapter. ‘Is Lynch no longer enamored of Hermione now that she's getting "therapy" from Snape?’ – another very good question. ‘Damn! Harsh. For Hermione that is.’ – yes, he needed to put her back in her place and reassert his independence from her. ‘I see the fire as representative of her passion. And, surprise surprise, she runs away from it.’ – more lovely interpretation. ‘Sarah should share the secrets of the forest with her.’ – nice idea! ‘But Snape's cracking a little too.’ – I’m glad you’ve noticed it. Some seem to think he is still in full control but there are small indicators that he may not be as composed as all that. ‘I don't know if she can open up all the way unless he breaks down some of his "professional" boundaries.’ – I agree, and this is where the ‘professional’ boundaries work (or don’t work) in both directions. ‘Starfish boys have feelings, hence the reason they help’ – you are so onto him. ‘I'm still jonesing for backstory’ – and backstory you shall have.

Maral – how lovely to hear from you. Greetings from Australia. I was so thrilled to hear that you have persisted with the language barrier to enjoy this story. Thanks so much for letting me know, it gives me a good motivational boost.

LeWyKi – well it sounds like you have been extremely disciplined with your reading days – congratulations to you. And your experiments are nearly ready to conduct – exciting times. Now, I need to point out that you only need to remember five new names as I got rid of two of them for you. Consider it a memory exercise :) ‘At least, how could she have been successful, so far?’ – well when you see her methods, she is actually pretty good at her job in many ways. She just has a few pretty significant hang-ups. ‘Why is starfish boy actually there?’ – Another good question – perhaps we will find out in this chapter? ‘Or is he (in my opinion the more likely option) in denial? And perhaps trying to evade the only person with the intelligence to actually be able to give him what healing he needs without being constantly outwitted?’ – nice prognostications, you may be onto something. ‘Did either of those 2 really think, they and/or the other could keep this arrangement detached and professional?’ – it does seem a little ambitious doesn’t it. ‘Oh, and I really like George in this story :-)’ – excellent, so do I. Please keep your thoughts coming, as you know they are very helpful.

Chapter 9 – Sleight of Hand

“I’ve done something very . . . bad.”

Shaun Mollison sat opposite her, grimacing and ticking as the Cruciatus tortured his body.

“Bad in what way?”

“Bad . . . in every way.” He twitched and writhed but didn’t avoid her gaze.

“Are you the only one responsible for this . . . bad thing?” asked Hermione, aware that she had to tread carefully around his guilt.

“Yes.”

“Are you willing to talk about what you did?”

“No.”

“Is there any way you feel you could make amends. To apologise perhaps?”

“I don’t think so,” he grunted, as another spasm captured him.

“Do you have a partner, Mr Mollison?” Hermione knew that there was no-one specifically mentioned in his notes.

“No.” He eyed her warily. There was something there.

“Was there someone recently?”

“Not that they were . . . aware of.”

Hermione frowned inwardly. An oblique admission.

“Why wouldn’t they have known?”

“Because I didn’t tell them.”

“A crush?”

“Sort of. Probably more than that.”

An obsession. But she didn’t want a word like that out in the open just yet.

“Did you want the person to know?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“No. I just watched.”

“Was this person someone you worked with? Went to school with?”

“No. I just saw her on the bus sometimes.”

“And that’s the only time you saw her?”

“No.”

“Were there other places?”

“Yes. Her house.”

“You went to her house?”

“Yes.”

“Inside?”

“No.”

“You saw her from outside the house?”

“Yes, there was a wall I could sit on.”

“Did you just look at her?”

“No.”

“What else did you do?”

“I jacked off.”

“Is that why you feel guilty?”

“I don’t want to . . . talk anymore.” He suddenly lunged out of his seat, balancing on shaky legs.

“Of course.” Hermione put a hand on his twitching arm. “Mr Mollison, I understand that you feel that you need to be punished. But while you’re attached to this negative judgement about your actions, it doesn’t make you more accountable for what you did. It actually stops you from being authentic and, therefore, makes you less responsible. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He stared at her for a long time with hollow, haunted eyes and she could see that he was trying to trust her. Finally he replied, “Yes.”

“If you want to take responsibility for your actions, you are going to have to let your real self be expressed, and that is going to require letting go of the Cruciatus. I want you to focus on the mirror therapy over the next few days. Will you do that for me?”

She knew that linking his behaviour to her approval may prove problematic in the future but, at that moment, developing trust was more important.

He stared at her intently before giving a tight nod.

***

They sat in the watery autumn sunlight, gazing at the vast wilderness between the lookout and the dusky peaks of distant mountains. Hermione had been somewhat surprised that Dennis had taken the lead in their steep climb, waiting for her and helping her with strong arms up the tricky parts. They now reclined on the rocks, breathing in the crisp air, allowing their tired muscles to recuperate.

“Our mother was always an anxious person,” Dennis said. “I was the youngest. I guess she babied me. It was like she didn’t want me to grow up. In case I no longer needed her. And when Colin died, her anxiety became worse. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight. It was suffocating.”

“And you played that role? The dependent child?” Hermione picked up a small stone and threw it off the steep edge of the lookout. She lost sight of it about half-way down.

“When you love someone, you let them use you in the ways they need to. Being useful, needed by a person can be part of who you are, like your identity. And when I finally left home, when I did it for myself, to give myself the space I needed, I felt like I’d lost something and that I’d betrayed her. I still feel guilty.”

Hermione nodded. It explained a lot about Dennis but it also helped consolidate her thoughts about what might be happening with Snape. All of his life, he'd been used by people. His identity had been forged around tending to other people’s needs and certainly, as a spy, he’d been prepared to give his life to serve others. With Lily Evans, he gave her the friendship she needed but when he started to assert his own desires, he was rejected. No doubt, if she dug further, Hermione would discover a dysfunctional family environment in which he was expected to care for the emotional needs of his parents, whilst denying his own. And then there was the current situation at Hogwarts where, unless he was of use to them in whatever state they demanded, he would be rejected. His needs were, again, out of the equation despite what he’d sacrificed for them.

How then, had he become so proficient at, and understanding of, sex? The act where, according to his own teachings, one was to take gratification in another? She now wondered if the caveat was, ‘unless you're Severus Snape’. Had he been servicing other people’s needs sexually over the past eight years? It seemed plausible. Or, as Dennis suggested, perhaps it related to his level of emotional connection. Maybe he didn’t have trouble using people he didn’t care about. But when he did have a connection, he couldn’t bring himself to forward his needs or desires because he’d been taught that they didn’t matter, and the fear of rejection on that basis was too great.

***

That practised, inscrutable expression was back. He sat opposite, his fingers steepled as he appraised her.

“Why did you leave in such a hurry yesterday evening?”

Snape frowned. “I consider it most inappropriate for our arrangement to be discussed in this session.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a separate consideration. My actions were directed toward a specific purpose and shouldn’t be considered out of context.”

Hermione drew in a deep breath. “I’m afraid, Professor, that when you leave here in a few weeks’ time, I need to be able to provide a report on your current mental health status and the progress you have made at Galladdon. I need to use all of the information at my disposal to construct an accurate profile.”

“I passed the psychiatric tests.”

“Dr Ellory would not have shown you the results. Therefore, you are telling me that you answered in a specific way to demonstrate the outcome that you intended.”

He didn’t respond, rubbing his chin with his steepled fingers as he scrutinised her.

“Please answer my question.”

“I left because I was confident you could find your own way back.”

Hermione shook her head, the mind games had returned.

“Avoidance tactics are unbecoming of you, Professor.”

“Maybe your question should be more specific.”

“Why didn’t you let yourself ejaculate?”

Was that specific enough?

“I thought I explained that last night.”

“You didn’t explain anything. You made a statement.”

Snape shifted in his seat. “Our arrangement is intended for you to become more aware of yourself. Your fixation on me is currently undermining that.”

Hermione knew he was trying to divert her, she needed to stay on task.

“Professor, would you consider bringing your needs into our arrangement?”

The muscles in his jaw tensed. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He knew perfectly well what she meant.

“Would you allow me to gratify you in our sessions?”

“No.”

“Would you gratify yourself using me?”

He swallowed. “No.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“That dynamic is not what you need to progress.”

“But it’s what you need.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose. “What I need is for you to write the fucking report and let me get on with my life.”

“I can’t do that, Professor.”

“You should be well and truly aware by now that I could do all of your jobs better than any of you. I don’t need to be here.” His voice was low and tight.

“Did you accept Ellory’s massage because she means nothing to you? Is that why you wouldn’t let me do the same for you?”

“Because you mean something to me?” he sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Then let me . . . help you. Tell me why your needs don’t matter?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Tell me why you’re denying them? These are your lessons, Professor. Remember? Acknowledging one’s desires? Being prepared to use others for gratification? Why can’t you follow your own teachings? If I’m repressed, then you are in denial. By choosing to only have your needs, sexual or otherwise, met by people you don’t care about, you can ensure that any rejection is not personally devastating. You fuck me but keep it under the safe umbrella of ‘service provision’ so, again, any rejection isn’t of you, it’s of the process.”

“Dr Granger, you are hardly equipped to speak about denial or, indeed, sexual pathology. You have formed an unhealthy attachment to a patient under your care. Perhaps that is something that needs to be shared with Mr Lynch?”

“Go right ahead.”

He glared at her. “Write the fucking report!”

“No. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need help from a sexually inexperienced, professionally incompetent, former student trying to solve her own problems by living vicariously through the sexual exploits of her pathetic patients.”

Hermione flushed but she was determined not to give up.

“You are attracted to me.”

“I have developed the professional capacity to fake a lot of things.”

“And I have developed the professional capacity to tell a fake. Let me help you.”

“Why? So you can pigeon-hole me as the ‘starfish-boy’?”

“No. Because I think you deserve a better life.”

“I don’t deserve anything,” he spat before rising from his chair and storming out.

***

He was deliberately ignoring her. Not only that, but he cancelled their next scheduled session and requested another massage with Ellory. She knew what he was doing—trying to distance himself from her as much as possible. Would he also follow through with his threat to reveal their ‘arrangement’ to Lynch?

The only bright moment in the week was when Emily rose from her wheelchair and took a series of tentative steps over to where George was levitating wild mushrooms for Pomona. Grabbing his shoulders from behind, she made him jump, causing the mushrooms to rain down on them and filling the room with laughter and applause. The burns on her feet had finally healed sufficiently and, even more positively for Hermione, she’d also revealed that she’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep and was interested in taking up meditation.

Later that day, Hermione was heading toward ‘the Bath’ with Dennis, when she saw Snape and Sarah returning from the forest. It shook her more deeply than she’d anticipated, especially after a solid week of resolving herself to a permanent deterioration in their relationship. No matter how hard she tried to focus on what Dennis was saying, her mind kept straying back to his face, turned to the beautiful woman with genuine interest, painfully twisting the knot in her stomach.

Upon her return, Hermione decided to take Emily a book on meditation. She’d found the woman to be extremely insightful and an excellent listener and, to some extent, confidant. Hermione had rarely had anyone, except George, to share her thoughts with in all her time at the Retreat.

Making her way to Emily's door, she was surprised to hear a deep voice coming from inside. Leaning close, she could make out some of what was being said.

“That’s it . . . Love, good . . . “

It was Snape. And since when did he call anyone ‘Love’? Was he with Sarah again? Hermione was at the absolute end of her tether. Removing her wand she cast Alohomora.

When she burst inside, her heart stopped. Snape was lying on top of Emily, his hands under her shirt. Hermione had never seen the young woman with her head garment removed and now the raw pink scars scoring her pale face shocked her all over again.

“Leave her alone!” Hermione shrieked, storming toward him.

Snape pulled his hands away and rose.

“What are you fucking doing!” she growled, drawing her hand back and hitting him as hard as she could across the face.

He didn’t respond, simply staring at her, his pale cheek blooming red.

“Answer me!” She drew her hand back again.

“Stop. Don’t!” Emily wheezed.

Hermione turned to see tears trickling down the chaotic rivulets of her cheeks.

“He’s been helping me.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that,” Hermione sneered.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you before,” the woman sobbed.

“Fuck,” Hermione hissed, putting her hands on her hips and staring at the ground.

“It’s me, Hermione. It’s Luna.”

Hermione’s head snapped up.

“I'm Luna Lovegood.”
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete