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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 89
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“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”

Chapter Eighty-Nine
“Terra Incognita” (Unknown Land)

Disclaimer: As Dory from “Finding Nemo” might say, “Just keep disclaiming, just keep disclaiming...” JK Rowling owns Harry Potter and all its little bits. I merely play with the toys she created. OWW! I just stepped on a tiny elder wand and mini-Voldemort. Worse than stepping on Legos. *Grumble*

============

It was the painful throbbing in her face that woke Hermione up. Falling face-first onto the hard and unforgiving stone, Hermione had broken her nose.

Alan had done nothing to stem the blood trickling down her face and onto her clothes. Her cloak had already been removed while she was unconscious. She could have used her wand to fix her nose and remove the blood staining her blouse and skirt, but Alan was twirling her wand in his hand as a form of amusement until she regained consciousness. Hermione would have retrieved it back from him if he didn't have her restrained upright against a post with a binding spell, just like the one she and Severus used during the research and development of the potion, Irresistible.

Hermione was trying to think, which was hard to do considering she was going through withdrawal symptoms of the Invigoration Draught and Wit-Sharpening Potion. She suddenly remembered about the Auror's pendant around her neck, but her hands were bound and she could not hold it to call to Harry.

Thinking back, she wasn't sure if she had called for Harry before the spell hit her or not, but panic and fright she definitely felt while she was holding it. Maybe it was enough to bring Harry, but she wasn't sure. But if it did work, why wasn't Harry there already saving her from this creep? Now she wished Harry had given her one of the upgraded pendants that didn't require one to hold on it to call for help.

“You know, it was sheer luck you got into the lift shortly after I set Dolohov in the correct frame of mind. A few of the right words were all that were needed to help him rediscover his higher purpose in life. It was a pity he didn't snap until after you left,” Alan said casually as if recalling something of little consequence. “I was disappointed at the time he didn't take care of the witch responsible for my godmother's traumatic experience in the Forbidden Forest, but this makes up for it. I've been hoping for years for this opportunity.”

Having trouble thinking clearly, Hermione felt a sudden burst of adrenaline, keenly aware she was not only the hostage of a stalker, but someone with a much darker, vengeful purpose. Grasping on to the implications of his statement, her stomach felt as if it had dropped out from under her. Alan was the one who had set Dolohov on the start of his killing rampage that resulted in the death of Marge, her co-worker.

“Some of the other Death Eaters who were living in back alleys were easy to grid of. Most had already sold off their wands by the time I pretended to befriend them. Some would have hexed themselves into oblivion long before I found them. Pretending to be some compassionate soul, bringing them a little food and a blanket before eventually offering them sweet and painless release...” Alan's eyes drifted towards the ceiling before he closed them, smiling serenely as he recalled the memory with fondness. “The exquisite look of torture on their faces, the long slow process, along with immediate paralysis of their vocal cords and legs, made it much easier to watch without people coming to the aid of a screaming witch or wizard, or having to follow them. Sometimes I would just pull up an old crate and watch. Better than that play we both saw the night we first met, wouldn't you say?”

Hermione recalled the play, 'Merlin and Morgana: The Lost Years', and first seeing Alan across the bar that night and regretting flirting with him, though by his implied remarks it now seemed he had set his sights on her a long time ago.

“What are you? Some Death Eater, killing those you feel have failed Voldemort? Is this what this is?” she asked, trying to keep him talking, having missed his earlier remark about his godmother. Psychotics loved to ramble on about grand plans stereotypically, by the way Harry told of his times he'd faced off with Voldemort. She just hoped she could continue to keep up the banter long enough for Harry to find her, if she had indeed called for Harry in time. The pendant was still hanging around her neck, made to look like some mediocre family heirloom and nothing more, and fortunately Alan hadn't removed it.

In her mind, she called to Harry, screaming his name repeatedly, but she wondered if she had to hold it to be effective as Harry instructed, or would merely wearing the locket suffice. The fact Harry didn't show up automatically made her hopes of surviving this lunatic dim substantially.

“Me? A Death Eater? As if,” Alan scoffed, but quickly added, “Not that I wasn't sympathetic to the cause. No, I am merely just a humble wizard helping to set the wizarding world back to rights after that awful war which was lost. Before You-Know-Who came long, it wasn't politically incorrect to use the term 'Mudblood,' but his unpopularity within some circles in the Ministry made it a term that was no longer appropriate to use in public, lest one be accused of being a sympathizer to him. Now we had to keep our 'prejudices,' as accurate and truthful as they may be, to ourselves.” He used his fingers gesturing air quotes to add to the sarcasm over the use of that specific term.

Hermione had to keep him talking longer. Any extra minute was a minute extra of hope she had. “So what purpose does killing Death Eaters serve, if you were sympathetic to their cause and shared their attitudes and opinions?”

“You silly Mudbloods don't seem to get that point, but given you're not as good at the rest of us and not really part of our culture, you wouldn't understand. Your disgusting divorce from Ron Weasley and that filth you said in that Quibbler interview merely showed how you do not belong, and your ideas are polluting my culture. So I'll use small words for your Muggle-tainted brain to grasp.”

Hermione would have had harsh words to lash out against his attitude, but given he had killed Death Eaters with no qualms, killing a Muggle-born like herself would mean even less to him. She had to keep her head level and hopefully remaining upon her shoulders.

Alan began slowly pacing back and forth in front of where he had Hermione bound up against the stout post. “See, having Death Eaters around, even in lowly jobs in the Ministry or living like rats in back alleys, is a constant reminder of the war. With those reminders constantly around, we could not move on and go back to the way things used to be; a gentler and more wholesome past without such crude and Muggle things tainting our society, and certainly not that horrid Muggle Alliance Network. With the Death Eaters gone, people would forget why we had the war that much sooner and we could go back to the way it is supposed to be.”

He paused to look at Hermione coolly, his nose held high in the air, jaw set with determination. “The Ministry's recent campaign –Mudbloods shouldn't be excluded from participating fully in our society and should be welcomed with open arms – was just a misguided idea.”

“Is that why you were so surprised that I got an apprenticeship?” Hermione asked, remembering the look of shock on his face when he guessed by accident she had one.

“I was shocked because my Aunt Calpurnia had made arrangements with most of the masters and mistresses throughout nearly all disciplines to refuse you an apprenticeship,” he said with relish.

Hermione gasped in shock. She had no idea she had been singled out by the Minister of Magic's wife to be refused an apprenticeship, knowing only one witch with that much power with that particular first name.

“Shocked, are we? Well, you should have thought of what you did before you set the Centaurs on my godmother,” he added, his face turning into a menacing scowl.

'Centaurs. Umbridge. Alan is Umbridge's godson and Calpurnia Fudge is his aunt.' Hermione clearly remembered drawing Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and letting the Centaurs carry her away, not caring if the sadistic bureaucratic toady died or not. Unfortunately, she lived.

“You seemed pretty shocked that I still wound up getting an apprenticeship,” she threw back. It may not have been the wisest thing to say, being confrontational with her captor, but her mind was not as sharp as it should have been, since she'd become addicted to potions which kept her working and studying longer than was prudent.

“Yes, but given that Severus Snape was Lavender Brown's...” Alan paused and made with a fake apologetic face as if his faux pas was not on purpose. “Oh, I'm sorry, Lavender Weasley's Potions master, and I did see you come and go rather frequently from that Death Eater's flat over the months. I even saw you go in that night after you left the Grand Royal Supper Club. I can only assume that you and Snape had some sort of arrangement where he got you an apprenticeship, and you got him... a Portkey to escape Great Britain, or maybe regulated Potions ingredients? Why else would a Death Eater bother to fraternize with a Mudblood like you.”

Hermione could tell that he was fishing for information. This was the reason he hadn't killed her yet.

“Severus Snape wasn't Lavender's Potions master. Sebastian Delgado was,” she corrected him.

A barking laugh of disbelief came from Alan and echoed off the stone walls. “Right, keep trying to lie to me. I had Snape for Potions. The bastard made it so I couldn't get a passing grade high enough on my OWLs. I could have gone on to be a great Auror, if it wasn't for him. I'd recognize that dungeon-dwelling git anywhere, even if he did greet all the witches he fucked for money with a mask on, and he skulked off to work through back alleys in the morning.”

Hermione now knew Alan had been stalking not just her, but Severus as well. And probably Draco, and...

“You killed Blaise Zabini.” She didn't have to ask, she knew.

“Yes, you seemed quite taken with my handiwork, watching your reaction that night. Unfortunately, it was not quite as inspired as when I took care of Pansy Parkinson. That was a true masterpiece of genius, if I say so myself,” he admitted smugly in self-adoration.

Recalling the image of Blaise Zabini suspended by his peeled skin, his organs heaped in a pile under his body, the prisoner vomited violently, the alcohol and nibbles served at the Potions master booze-up coming right back up.

Hermione knew that if someone didn't come and save her soon, she was surely going to die that night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco and Severus rushed up upon the stage. All hostility Draco felt towards his wife as of late instantly disappeared, replaced with nothing but concern and sheer terror something was wrong with her.

Before they could reach her, Rainbow was already up on the stage, crouching over Ginny. Addressing the concerned murmurs of the crowd, she announced with great calm, “Probably low blood sugar or a little dehydration.” Turning to Draco and Severus as they rushed upon the stage, she said, “Meet me at the clinic.”

Rainbow activated the Portkey for herself and Ginny. The two of them were pulled away, disappearing from the stage as Draco reached the spot where his wife had collapsed.

Drawing their wands, Draco and Severus Apparated to the clinic.

Arriving in front of the clinic's doors, they rushed in and were directed by the Healer's assistant at the front desk to go to one of the emergency treatment rooms towards the back. They passed by one wizard who'd had part of his arm Transfigured into a giant bird's head and kept pecking at the Healer who was trying to help the patient.

“In here,” Rainbow called out as she heard the thunder of their footsteps down the hallway.

Ginny was on her back on an examining table, while already regaining consciousness. Draco went directly over to his wife and held her hand, panic and worry etched upon his face. Rainbow worked around Draco, and continued to wave her wand over and about Ginny trying to discover why she had collapsed.

“And this is why I didn't want you to push yourself. You shouldn't have taken this role. You should have declined.” Draco stroked her face, shoving a strand out of her eyes in a gesture of tender affection.

Severus felt he should leave them alone, but he wanted to find out what was wrong with Ginny before letting the couple alone with their reunion.

“If I didn't push myself, it would have been a risk to the safety of the island,” Ginny protested, before she rolled over to one side and vomited into a bucket Rainbow conjured just in time.

The sight and sound of Ginny in the act was testing Severus' own resolve not to vomit. He was feeling progressively unwell as the day went on, but was feeling far worse now.

“What's wrong?” Draco asked Rainbow as she helped Ginny lay back on the examining table, her wand still moving about Ginny's form after she spelled the bucket away.

“Well, her blood sugar is a little low, but she's perfectly fine. Though I do recommend you take it easy,” Rainbow advised.

“I'll take it easy once this festival is over.” Ginny made to get back up, but Rainbow gently pushed her back down, indicating she wasn't done.

“I recommend you start taking it easy from this moment forward. When was your last cycle?”

Ginny blinked and thought for a second. “About five weeks, but I'm not due for another week or so. I've been quite irregular since going off potions since the wedding.

Rainbow smiled. “Well, you won't be having a cycle for a while.”

Draco looked between Rainbow and Ginny, missing the immediate implication of the statement, since he didn't care to be informed about the finer details about menstrual cycles. Understanding dawned upon his face as he slowly said, “You mean–,” halting before finishing his question.

Rainbow smiled, and patted Draco on the shoulder. “Congratulations.”

Draco and Ginny embraced, both breaking into tears. This was what they had been trying for since they married, Ginny going off contraceptive potions the day they married. Now they would have a child and thus be eternally bound through the magic of their children together.

Severus came over to congratulate the pair, despite the growing discomfort in his chest and abdomen. He began to offer his congratulations to the expecting couple, but a shooting pain through his stomach made him immediately double over, his vision going slightly gray before returning.

“Severus?” Draco said with some alarm, and helped his friend over to another examining table in the adjoining bay.

Rainbow ordered Ginny to stay put while she went to take care of Severus.

“Describe what you are feeling?” Rainbow ordered.

“It's nothing. Probably some flu or something going around,” Severus assured her, dismissing that it was anything, despite how he'd lost his footing and nearly passed out.

Rainbow's wand passed over Severus and her brow began crinkle, her mouth set in a grim line. “It's not flu or a cold, magical or Muggle.” Waving her wand back and forth, she cast a few charms, looking even more perplexed. “Not poisoning, not allergic reaction, no diseases I can detect...” She shook her head back and forth, thoroughly confused. “When did this start?”

Severus answered that he woke up feeling unwell the day before.

Rainbow summoned Lambert, the other Healer on staff who had just finished with the patient down the hall. She consulted with him in hushed tones to the side. The other Healer, a wizard who worked full-time at the clinic, came over and waved his own wand back and forth over Severus, the glow hovering over his trunk never wavering in color or intensity.

“Can you tell me, have you had any changes in diet as of late? Changes in routine?” asked Lambert, hoping for some clue.

“I'm not tutoring any students this week, but other than that, no. No changes at all.” Severus felt like the two Healers were hovering over him were making a great bother over nothing. It reminded him of his trips to the infirmary at Hogwarts and Poppy fussing over him when he was a spy, recalling a far less joyful time in his life.

“Have you taken possession of any new objects this week? Perhaps something you bought or was given to you was cursed?” the senior Healer asked.

Naomi did indicate non-verbally she had somehow procured or found the Malfoy family silverware, but he had not taken possession of it yet. “No,” he shook his head. “Nothing new or old, bought or received.” He wanted to keep the Malfoys' anniversary present a surprise, as Draco and Ginny were in the room watching him. Besides, Naomi was just fine, and she was the one who technically bought it and was still in possession of the silver, should there be any curses still malingering about the set.

Just then he felt a wave of nausea pass through him, and he vomited all over himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“If you kill me, then you'll be the first suspect. You got off from Pansy Parkinson's murder. And anything beyond a simple Killing Curse will indicate your handiwork. You might have gotten a free pass for killing Death Eaters, but killing Harry Potter's best friend will certainly put you in his cross hairs. He's an Auror. And Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody would certainly zero in on you should Muggle-borns start being murdered once again, since you've acquired a taste for spectacularly gruesome tableaus. You wouldn't be given a free pass this time, as you did in Parkinson's murder. How did you get off for her murder? Bribes?” Hermione asked as vomit and spittle hung from her lower lip, as she kept trying to keep him engaged and talking longer.

She avoided breathing through her nose, to reduce the likelihood she would vomit again because of the smell of it wafting up as she vomited all down her front.

“Being the nephew of the Minister of Magic helps,” Alan confessed. “Also, Dolores Umbridge still being an influential member of the Wizengamot helps too. Having blackmail material on the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot is my ace in the hole.”

“Rancelette? What do you have on him?” If the head of the wizarding council where Justice was concerned was being blackmailed, who knows what other important matters have been twisted for Calpurnia Fudge and Dolores Umbridge's designs?

“You'd have to ask Blaise Zabini. Oh, that's right, you can't. But forcing Blaise to give up some of those memories of him being... ahem, intimate with Rancelette with the false promise I'd let him live was foolish of him. Oh, well. Too bad for him. Good for me,” he said in the same way Voldemort would talk about killing people with the same sort of detached calm.

Hermione felt a violent shudder steal through her. It could have been caused by her potions withdrawal getting worse, or revulsion over the cold-heartedness of her potential murderer and what he was capable of that frightened her.

“But how could you possibly get away with my murder, if you'd be the chief suspect?” she asked once more, continuing with her stalling tactics.

“I can just easily claim to have solved how a Death Eater escaped. The best speculative scenario would be you provided potion ingredients for Snape's escape through your work in the Department of Standards & Regulations. The timing of the events work in my favor. I have no idea if you did or not give him ingredients, but it makes for a convenient and believable story. And in the process of being a concerned citizen trying to help find out how two Death Eaters – that's right, I know about Draco Malfoy leaving as well – you were accidentally killed when your own curse was reflected off of a mirror, doing anything you could to protect your secret. A Mudblood, friend of Harry Potter, helped a Death Eater escape for her Potions apprenticeship. Maybe I could embellish it and say you were possibly even in love with him.”

Hermione pulled herself together as best as she could and started to laugh with disdain. “What mirror? And you really think anyone would buy that story? Really? You obviously haven't thought this through.”

“No?” Alan cast a quick spell and Hermione heard the crashing of glass behind her. “That mirror I placed there ahead of time. And as for you and Snape, why are you blushing?” Alan surmised, not fooled by her acting.

Leisurely walking around her as a sculptor would survey a block of marble before beginning their next masterpiece, he studied her. With casual indifference, he lazily drawled, “I wonder if Snape did steal your heart and it's gone.”

With a sudden ferocity, Alan cast a slicing hex that cut across Hermione's chest. She felt the fresh flow of blood begin seeping down her blouse, her flesh stinging brightly as if seared with a white-hot iron. Suddenly, she felt as if she could barely breathe, despite her laborious attempt to scream.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lambert and Rainbow were at a loss. They continued to check Severus over for any possible source of his illness. When he suddenly grabbed at his chest, they wondered if it was a heart attack, but a quick check assured them it was not.

The pain cut through him, reminding him of the feeling he had when Lucius hit him with the slicing hex that punctured his lung, which had sent him to the infirmary at Hogwarts for a while. Though not as sharp or as intense, it was similar and in a completely different spot that where his old scar remained. He gasped at the surprise of the pain that seemed to come from nowhere with no identifiable or discernible cause.

Shortly after it began, it stopped entirely. The pain began to fade away, and he was feeling quite sleepy.

As Severus began to drift off, Draco was asking frantically, “What's wrong with him? Why can't you people do anything?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Immediately after the slicing hex hit Hermione, a bright blue spell that seemed to originate out of thin air stunned Alan; he was out cold.

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak and ran over to Hermione and released her from her bonds. As she slumped into his arms, Kingsley appeared, having been hidden by a Disillusionment Charm, and cast Alan with a binding spell that would prevent escape.

Pulling out a potion from a pouch that hung from his belt, Harry tipped it up to Hermione's lips. She was barely conscious enough to drink it down before she slipped into darkness.

Harry did his best to heal the slicing hex temporarily, then cast a Mobilicorpus spell to lift Hermione's body from the dank floor. He pulled out a Portkey that would transport them both to St. Mungo's.

“I have him. And this time we have his confession,” Kingsley said to Harry with a nod before the young Auror and Hermione disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How long was I out?” Severus asked, his voice a rasp, his throat raw from the acid of the vomit he had yet to rinse from his mouth. Fortunately, Rainbow knew the spells to get vomit out of hair and clothes to Severus' benefit.

“Just a few minutes,” Rainbow said, her wand waving in front of his eyes, checking for dilation and movement. “Follow the tip of my wand, please.”

Severus did as he was told without protest, for once.

Lambert had a few books out. He was flipping through them, trying to discover the cause based on the symptoms and length of Severus' ailments.

“Have you been experimenting on any new potions? Any new research? Any new ingredients? Any change in ingredients you've handled recently, such as a new source or variety?” Lambert asked, throwing out questions as fast as he could ask them, Severus answering in the negative to each.

Nothing had changed, nothing was different. It was a rather ordinary week of no consequence other than the festival. Even then, Severus had eaten the same food as everyone else at the luau the night before, and he had yet to eat any of the food being sold at the festival that day.

The Healers were stumped. By the time Severus was feeling well enough to sit up, Ginny had been discharged after being given something to help stabilize her blood sugar, and candied ginger to nibble on to ease her nausea.

“I recommend you go home and rest,” Rainbow said with the same authoritative tone Poppy used on him over the years. “If you're feeling better, you can go to the festival tomorrow, as long as you sit as much as possible. But something is wrong, and we right now have nothing to go on. Take it easy.” Turning to Ginny, she added, “That goes for both of you.”

Severus finally got up off the table.

Draco approached him and asked, “Are you well enough for me to Side-Along Apparate you?”

“No Apparating for you, witchy-poo,” Rainbow reminded Ginny with a waggle of her finger. “Not until after the baby's born.”

Ginny turned to Draco and said, “I'll meet you back at the festival by the papusa stand after you're done getting Severus home.”

Draco nodded and gave his wife a brief kiss and a smile, placing his hand upon her abdomen with a gentle possessiveness. “See you soon.”

'God, I really would have liked to have tried those papusas,' Severus mused to himself as Draco wrapped an arm around him for support and the two Disapparated.

The trip was too much. When they landed, Severus fell to his knees and suffered a brief bout of the dry heaves, the brief trip too much for his system to tolerate.

Draco was glad there was nothing for him to clean up. If Ginny was going to suffer from morning sickness, who knew how much vomit he'd be spelling away for who knew how many months to come. He had no idea how long the phase lasted, but he was going to learn soon enough first-hand.

Picking Severus up off the floor once the convulsions stopped, he guided his friend over to the bed. He helped him undress and slip into some pyjama bottoms before tucking him in.

“Do you want a book? At least keep one by the bedside table, should you feel like reading?” Draco offered.

He was doing his best to take care of his mentor, given until eight months prior, he had never had to take care of anyone before. Now he felt it was time to step up and take care of those around him now. First and foremost, with his wife, and now with his friend.

Severus felt weak. He knew was perfectly capable of Summoning his own books from his library, as he had done from his bed many times, but he didn't trust his own magic at that moment. Something was wrong. He knew it now, no longer dismissing it as heartburn or a cold.

“Yes, Draco. I need A Potions Master's Guide to Tropical Diseases, located on the second bookshelf to the right of the door, on a shelf somewhere around the middle.”

Though Lambert and Rainbow were very competent Healers, it would soothe his own mind to do his own research and see if there was something they had missed in their diagnosis being inconclusive.

By the time Draco had returned from the library, Severus had drifted off to sleep.

“Ginny and I will check on you later tonight after the festival,” he told the sleeping wizard. Draco wasn't even sure if Severus heard him or not, as he said it more for himself.

Draco wished at this point that Hermione had come with them to Malu Palekaiko. He had wished it way back in February, after watching Severus mope about missing her. He just hoped Lavender was moving forward with his idea to open an Asia-Pacific regional headquarters for The Lovely Lavender Company. Not only would it be his chance to get back to doing work he enjoyed more, but now it had become more important to reunite Severus and Hermione together again.

Draco had his happily ever after with Ginny; it was time for Severus to have his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione found herself in a long, flowing dark robe in the midst of a vast Stygian forest at night. She knew she was someplace else before, but she couldn't recall where. She was currently surrounded by trees which stood like silent sentinels of the starless night. The treetops blended in with the expanse of the universe above.

Wand in hand, she cast a spell to light her way as she began her trek towards her destination. Why she was going there or where it was, she couldn't exactly recall. Her mind was shrouded like the mist that hung about the forest floor, partially concealing her path and her purpose.

She had a long way to go before she could rest.

There was a general idea of where she had to go, but the reason why she was going there was not in the forefront of her mind. Dreams never really ever made sense, as while in them one usually took them at face value as the normative, though in this dream she felt more self-aware than ever before.

Walking all night, she never tired. The sky should have begun to lighten with the coming of the dawn, but no sun rose; it remained dark. Onward she trekked for what seemed like miles, yet knowing she would eventually arrive. Where was she going to arrive? She would know when she got there.

Severus was being dragged along the rough and muddy ground. It must have rained recently, and his captors didn't seem to care that twigs, rocks, and sand abraded against him, scratching his hands and wrists which were bound behind his back, slowly shredding his black woolen trousers and coat.

How he was captured he could not exactly recall. He only knew in his current situation things were not looking so good. There were voices muffled, as the heavy bag over his head dampened the sound, which was further reduced by the wetness of the bag's fabric. There were some derisive chuckles he knew were in reference to him, given that he was their prisoner.

“Throw him in the middle,” a familiar gruff voice called out.

Whoever was casting the lazy Mobilicorpus, with the intent to drag him on the ground, put the effort into it and flicked their wand. The spell caused Severus to fly up through the air and land on the chilly sodden ground with a thud on his side. He most probably cracked a rib or two in the process, when he landed on a jagged rock poking up through the flattened grassy clearing.

As disjointed as this dream was, Severus' spy instincts kicked in. He remained silent in hopes of listening in further to discover who his captors were and their plans. He waited.

Severus knew better than to speak up in this type of situation, as that usually resulted in a boot to the head or, most probably, to his already cracked ribs.

Through the bag's fabric, he could see no light, thus surmising it must be night. With it being night, there was only a slight chill in the air, indicating it was not winter or autumn. And the lack of snow meant that it was probably not spring either. Summer, it was summertime.

The smell of the grass and nearby flowers and trees that seeped through the damp hood, perfuming the night air with their fragrance released from the recent rains, told Severus he was somewhere in England. He knew these smells.

This was not odd, as Severus had often dreamt he was back in England, often forgetting his dream come morning; however, he would not forget tonight's dream.

Hermione came upon the clearing, at the end of what seemed like an endless journey through the forest. This was where she was summoned to go; something or someone drew her here.

Dozens of witches and wizards in long, flowing dark robes, exactly like the one Hermione was wearing, stood in a semi-circle. Her mind instantly recognized this for what it was – it was a Dark Revel, though no one wore masks. Hermione was not a Death Eater, yet she was dressed as one.

She recognized each and every face of those standing in the semi-circle. Moody, Cornelius Fudge, many of the Aurors Harry worked with, members of the Wizengamot, Ministry officials, Rita Skeeter, the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet, even Ron. What they all had in common, standing there together, she couldn't fathom, not understanding why she was brought before them as if to stand in judgment.

Alan stepped forward from the circle and Hermione began to breathe heavily. She knew she should be afraid of him and that he was dangerous, but exactly why, she could not recall immediately. She longed for an Invigoration Draught and a dose of Wit-Sharpening Potion, suddenly feeling tired and her mind cloudier.

Sauntering over towards the center of the circle, Alan asked, “Does this belong to you?” With a flick of his wand, the bag placed over the prisoner's head disappeared.

Hermione didn't even know there was anyone in the middle of the circle, as the person was caked in mud and blended in, looking more like a mound of dirt than a human being.

She recognized the wizard immediately. “Severus,” she breathed in shock.

He was on the ground, muddied, on his side, his hand and feet bound, his hair wet and plastered against his face as he lay there, a few hanks tangled against his beard.

Sweeter to Severus than the cool air entering his lungs, no longer stifled by the damp bag over his head that was finally gone, was the sight of Hermione. God, how he missed her and she was there. But there was a foreboding growing in the pit of his stomach. There was something very familiar about where they were.

Hermione looked down at Severus, and he looked back up to her with a growing look of dread upon his face. He had to face her now, after he let her go in his memory he'd left for her. Was that a look of odium she cast down at him, that she was going to abandon him there and leave him to the mercies of his captors? There was a coldness in Hermione's eyes Severus had never seen before.

He finally recognized where he was. Hermione was looking at Severus with the same simmering loathing he'd cast upon his wife that fateful night. The night he summoned all his hatred for every grievance against her and his situation in life before he cast the Killing Curse. It was his turn to die, as he should have that night.

With resignation, Severus laid his head back down in the mud, waiting for the course of events to unfold as he had dreamt them many times before. This time, he was the one bound, lying in the mud about to meet his death.

“Well?” Alan prompted Hermione. "Does this belong to you?"

“Belong? Hardly.”

It struck at Severus' heart, having the same words he said that night spoken in regards to him now. And he recognized the wizard speaking to her as Pansy Parkinson's murderer. The wizard had the same smug grin upon his face as he'd worn during the murder trial.

“Then it shouldn't bother you then to dispatch this Death Eater,” Alan addressed Hermione before turning to speak to the rest of those gathered 'round. “His presence in this world is a reminder of the war. Of your pain, of all your hopes dashed, of all your friends dead, chances lost, regret filling your soul of that which you wish you could have done to save the ones you loved. Kill him, and the world will be set to rights.”

Hermione hated Severus for how he'd cast her aside. She thought he would have missed her, but it seemed he had happily moved on with his own life. And now he was there for her to have her revenge for the pain he caused her.

Severus' dream was departing dramatically from the one he knew. It seemed that there was a prior conversation between Hermione and Pansy Parkinson's killer which Severus was not privy to, but the message was clear: this murderer wanted Hermione to kill Severus.

Sensing her hesitation, Moody asked her, “So you feel some sort of affection for him?” It was the same question Moody asked Hermione when questioned about Dolohov the day after he went on his killing spree.

Standing straight up, she sneered, “Not anymore.”

“Then kill him,” Moody ordered. “What difference does it make if there is one less Death Eater in the world? And this one will be so easily forgotten, just like the rest.”

Hermione understood the implications of his statement. The Daily Prophet had reported a string of deaths over the years, but their coverage was masked in code words and understated phrases not meant to alarm the public. They were written up as passings due to old age or accidents. What wizard died of old age at the age of thirty-five? Or as Blaise's murder was reported, a most unfortunate accident in the atrium of his block of flats. Even Pansy Parkinson's murder trial was skewed and biased tripe with Alan's name withheld when reported in the paper. Severus' death would probably be written up and put in a tiny box under an advertisement for hemorrhoid cream on sale at the local apothecary, or some other such ignoble editing choices.

Walking towards Severus, a fierce glint in her eye and a curl upon her lip, Hermione raised her wand.

Severus closed his eyes and hoped it would be quick.

Had it been Macnair or even Dolohov, Hermione would have done it. But this was Severus. He was no Death Eater, any more than she was a Death Eater for wearing the robes currently on her back. She had meant to clear his name and had not, but Severus was innocent on those counts he was falsely accused of. Severus did not let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts; he did not kill Albus Dumbledore. Severus may have broken her heart, but Hermione was not going to kill him.

Sparks flew out of Hermione's wand and she laid Alan out on his back, gasping for breath and twitching in the mud.

A quick spell, and the bounds around Severus' wrists and ankles were gone.

Grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, Hermione helped haul him up, yelling at him to find his legs and run.

Severus couldn't believe it. She had saved him. Despite her obvious hatred of him, she had saved him. He ran towards the trees, making for somewhere other than the clearing he was trying to escape from. Hermione was right behind him, casting spell after spell, while deflecting ones directed towards her and Severus.

(((INSERT FAN ART HERE)))

Running blindly, with not even the stars to light their path, Severus ran, and Hermione kept right behind him.

Had he a wand of his own to light the way, Severus would have not tripped over the root growing up through the forest floor as he ran pell-mell, and landed nose first into a tree.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What is wrong with her? Why won't she wake up?” Harry asked the Healer, as Ron paced at the foot of Hermione's bed.

Lavender was in a chair, trying to keep her fingers out of her mouth and not ruin her manicure. It was too late, she had already bitten off all ten nails while fretting over Hermione for the past couple days.

Zhubanysh stroked Hermione's face as she sat next to her bed. She had spent many hours there singing to Hermione, trying to bring her back the same way she once sang to her husband when he was brought to her yurt that fateful December day, unconscious and broken, physically and emotionally.

“We don't know, Mr. Potter,” Healer Maxelbine said with a shake of his head. “We healed that hex up very quickly, before her lungs filled with blood, thanks to your quick work. Her nose is fixed, and Potions Master Dobmeir already treated her for her withdrawal symptoms for the Invigoration Draught and Wit-Sharpening Potion.”

Albert had recognized some of the symptoms of Hermione's dependence upon the potions, since he had used them a bit too much a few times throughout his own life. A potion to counter the withdrawal symptoms would speed the healing process, but it wasn't the withdrawal which was keeping Hermione in a prolonged state of slumber. It was something that perplexed even the staff at St. Mungo's.

“There is nothing we can do at this time other than monitor her. We'll be back in an hour to check her again. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but we're doing all that we can.”

The Healer left the room and closed the door.

Hermione stirred a little, but she had been doing that off and on over the past few days.

Walking over to Harry, Ron asked, “You don't think this was some dark magic he used in that hex to–” His questions was cut short by Hermione speaking.

“Severus? Severus?” Hermione never woke, her eyes still closed. She was talking in her sleep. Earlier, she was mumbling, but nothing that could be discerned. There was no mistaking whose name she was calling out this time.

Ron looked from the prone form of his ex-wife, then to Harry with growing confusion knitting his brow. “Why would she be saying that git's name?”

Harry and Lavender exchanged brief glances. Zhubanysh did not know who this Severus was and was about to ask, but stopped when Lavender made some noises as if clearing her throat.

“Harry, if you would lock the door, I would prefer to not have anyone interrupt us for a bit.” Patting the chair next to her, Lavender bid her husband to sit down.

“Hermione knows Severus Snape, because actually he was my Potions master. Sebastian Delgado was merely his cover name so he could consult for me. He and Hermione worked together for some months, and during that time, I guess you could say, they became...” Lavender paused looking for the right term that would not send Ron into a screaming fit. This was a hospital after all. “Erm, good friends.”

Comprehension slowly dawned on Ron's face. “How good.”

“Very.”

Harry had the good sense to be ready to cast a Silencio to mute the scream of “What?” that came from Ron's mouth.

At least during her retelling of events, Lavender never disclosed to Ron about the more unsavory aspects of Hermione and Severus' original arrangement, his “legal” line of work, or her role as madam. She omitted as much about Ginny and Draco as possible, as that was still a very sore subject for Ron.

Zhubanysh felt pity for her sister, as she heard the tale and continued to hum softly, stroking Hermione’s face.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After casting a spell to cause the branches and roots of the trees at the edge of the forest to become a barrier to slow the pursuit of the others, Hermione turned around to follow Severus, only to find that he no longer was in front of her.

Where had he gone? She was right behind him and there was nothing, no sign of him at all. Even the spell she cast to highlight his footsteps ended at a tree with a large root sticking up from the ground.

Looking about, hoping the others behind them would not hear her, she called out in her loudest voice, screaming into the night, “Severus? SEVERUS!”

Where Hermione was certain where she was going before, now she began wandering aimlessly, unsure of what direction to go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus sat bolt upright in bed, gasping, reaching for his nose, still feeling the phantom sensation of his face slamming up against the trunk.

“Severus!” Ginny rose from the comfortable chair she had brought in from his library in which to keep vigil by his bedside.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face, his mouth dry as parchment. Ginny was there, handing him a glass of water, which he drank slowly, his hand shaking slightly.

Noting the slant of the morning sun coming into his bedroom through the plantation shutters, he recalled he was put to bed in the early afternoon.

“Have I been asleep for nearly twenty-four hours?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Suddenly noticing his bladder was full, Severus got up, feeling that his legs at least were working once again, and hurried off to the loo to relieve himself.

Ginny waited until he came back and sat back down on his bed before correcting him. “You've been asleep for nearly two days, Severus.”

Jumping up in a panic, he shouted, “My shop! The potions!” There were several potions he was working on for commissions that he was supposed to check on Saturday night and Sunday as well. He wondered if they had boiled dry over the weekend and his shop was ruined with smoke.

“Don't worry,” Ginny said. She put a hand on his shoulder urging him to sit down, seeing Severus' eyes become a little unfocused for a moment. “When Draco and I swung by here Saturday night, you were still asleep. Draco took your keys and extinguished the flames on all the potions that he could not finish himself, if you were still unwell. Sunday he finished up a few potions he could easily do himself, when we couldn't wake you yesterday. Today, Draco owled all your clients that their appointments were to be rescheduled at a later date, and told your students that tutoring was canceled. Everything is taken care of at the shop.”

Pulling out a playing card from her pocket, Ginny said, “Oh, I should let Draco and the others know you rose, Sleeping Beauty.” Taking her wand to the card, it set the other ones it was charmed to vibrate and flash, a trick taken from Draco's playing-card charm from Severus' first day in business.

Before Ginny even put her wand back in the loop on the side of her shorts, Rainbow Apparated directly into Severus' bedroom, ignoring the impropriety of such a rude gesture.

“You're awake!” Rainbow exclaimed with astonishment.

“Obviously,” Severus drawled.

Though he tried to play the incident off with nonchalance, it worried him he had been out for two days and with only a dream to recall. Then he remembered the dream, noting he rarely if ever remembered them, but this was fresh and not fading like most dreams did after waking. This was clear and vivid, as if it were a memory formed while he was awake.

Rainbow's wand went about hovering, flicking and swishing about Severus' person. She made a harrumphing grunt, still clueless about the cause of Severus' symptoms and extended sleep from which he could not be roused.

“How do you feel? The nausea? The stabbing pains? The dizziness?” the Healer asked as she held the tip of her wand up to Severus' eyes to check for dilation, which was hard to detect considering his eyes were black.

The unpleasantness he was feeling for the past couple days, the ones in which he was awake, had passed. He wasn't back to one hundred percent, but he was feeling much better. His appetite had even returned.

Severus heard the front door opening downstairs and the familiar sound of Draco's footsteps before he saw his friend come into his bedroom.

“Thank Merlin you're finally awake. Rainbow was about to ask for a Healer from San Francisco or Sydney to come and see what was wrong with you.” Draco went over to sit in the chair Ginny was occupying earlier. “Can you recall anything while you were passed out cold?”

Severus did not wish to share his dream, not with Ginny and Rainbow in the room. “Yes, it was nothing of consequence that made much sense,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand that the matter was to be dropped. As if the words nothing of consequence could ever describe the night he killed his wife, or this new dream version with Hermione present and roles reversed.

Draco knew there was something more, but would not press it until later when they were alone.

“Well, what did you see?” Rainbow prodded. “Dreams can be highly symbolic and give us clues as to why you were not technically sick, but certainly in what Muggles would call a coma.”

Severus evaded the question by saying he was going to have some breakfast, since it still seemed to be morning.

Ginny insisted Severus sit and she would make him breakfast, but when he asked for sausages, eggs, beans, mushrooms, bacon, and buttered toast, she balked and decided she would leave rather than become nauseous by the smells of a proper English breakfast fry-up. Draco set about to cook breakfast while Ginny gave Severus a chaste kiss upon his forehead, saying she was glad he was better, before going back to her home.

Rainbow seemed to be done with her foolish wand-waving and asked Severus to drop by the clinic later that day.

Severus gave her a very ambiguous answer that was his polite way of declining while getting the witch out of his house as soon as quietly possible.

With just the two wizards in the house now, Severus said, “Impending fatherhood and you learned to cook. I'm impressed.”

“I surprise myself sometimes,” Draco admitted dryly. He pulled out the keys to Severus' shop and tossed them back to him. “I think you'll be needing these later when you're well enough to return to work.”

“Thank you for taking care of the potions while I was indisposed.”

“Thank you for not hexing the keys. I had to turn off the Wolfsbane Potion, as that is far above my skill level. I also turned off the latest batch of Sequoia and a few other ones that are noted with acronyms in the ledger, as I couldn't figure out what they were.”

The Wolfsbane Potion could coast for a few days without a flame, not affecting the quality in the end, but the Sequoia Potion and the other highly secretive and personal ones would have to be scrapped and started from the beginning again. The most he lost was a week on one of the potions, the rest would merely be completed a few days later than promised. He would have to owl his clients and inform them of the delay, and hope they still wanted him to fulfill his commissions.

Once breakfast was done, Severus told Draco to leave the dishes for the elf cleaning service, as he wanted to get back to the shop as soon as possible. Work was the greatest solution to avoid thinking about his dream of Hermione and the cold look in her eyes as she'd stared down at him as he lay in the mud. There was no compassion for him in her eyes. He hoped to never see that look in her eyes in real life ever, should they be reunited.

He knew Draco would question him about his dream, but the younger wizard had the good grace to not press the issue. Severus knew Draco would let him bring it up when he was at least a bit more comfortable to address it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Trudging through the forest, Hermione wondered if it she could ever find her way out of this endless night, as she wandered aimlessly. She tried to continue her search for Severus, but periodically had trouble remembering why she was looking for him. There were times she felt she was walking in circles, but even with marking the tree with her wand, she never crossed her own trail.

'What purpose is there to continue on. I've lost Severus, twice. Why make the effort?'

Hermione felt like giving up. Why bother trying to find a way out of the forest if she had failed in so many other ways. She had lost Severus, and not even cleared his name as she'd promised him.

Slumping against a tree and sliding down onto the damp, peaty soil, she began to cry. Had Death come to cross her path in this forest, she would have surely asked him for release from her pain and this fruitless enterprise.

'Fruit. Something about fruit...'

A wind picked up and brushed against her face, pulling her hair out of her eyes. The wind whistled through the trees and sounded almost like voices. Looking up to the sky, she saw the coming of the dawn as the sky began to lighten slightly.

As Hermione cracked open her eyes, she saw Ron sitting beside her bed, brushing her hair away from her face, a tissue in his hand, blotting away the tears that had escaped in her sleep.

He smiled down at her, circles under his eyes, his face tired. “We were worried we almost lost you.”

It took a moment for Hermione to realize that she wasn't just in a forest, but that it was only a dream. Recalling the events that proceeded her waking up in a hospital bed, Hermione bolted upright in bed. “Alan! Is he– Where...?”

Ron put his hand over her, patting it in a manner meant to assure her. “Harry got him. He's been sentenced to Azkaban, for life.”

Hermione flopped back down, her head hitting the pillow, relief flooding her that he was no longer a threat. At least for now. Others had escaped from Azkaban, so could he.

“Harry! I've got to tell him things Alan said–,” she began, bolting back upright in bed, but was stopped by Ron with a hand upon her shoulder to sit back in her bed.

“Harry got there right as you were regaining consciousness. He and Kingsley heard Alan's confessions to those murders, plus a few more he admitted to under Veritaserum later on.” Ron seemed to find this news of great comfort, but to Hermione it was anything but.

“If they were there, then why didn't they free me sooner? Why did Harry let that bastard nearly slice me in half? How long have I been out?” Hermione's mind began to fill with questions, her mind sharper than it had felt in a while, without the aid of potions.

“You were out for three days,” Ron said with great seriousness. “Albert said it might have been partly due to withdrawal from those potions you were taking, and partly making up for lost sleep, though nothing could rouse you, even once you were healed. No one could figure out why you wouldn't wake.”

Just then a Healer came into the room, staring with great disbelief that Hermione was awake. “You're up?”

There was a great flurry of activity, as the Auror, who had been guarding Hermione's room had one of the Healers send an owl to Harry that Hermione was finally awake. In addition, what seemed like half the staff of St. Mungo's filed through her room to ask her questions, wave wands about her face and body, and perform various other procedures to try to figure out the source of her prolonged sleep. They had ruled out Draught of Living Death within the first five minutes of her arrival that first night, but countless other tests were performed while she slept. Now that she was awake, they seemed intent on performing them all over again.

Harry finally arrived and rushed into the room. “I am so sorry he let him get that first hex in, but he kept talking on, bragging about crimes he either got away with or was never caught before. And given how he escaped justice before, I needed as much damning evidence as possible,” he began, knowing Hermione was wondering why he didn't save her sooner. He knew her well enough to predict exactly what she was going to ask him, given that she had seen him emerge from his Invisibility Cloak and knew he had probably been there in the room with them for a while.

“But why did you wait until after he hexed me? Why didn't you stop it?” Hermione asked, feeling as if Harry allowed her to be hurt to settle some Auror's score.

“He was faster than I anticipated, and given his rambling on and leisurely pace, I thought I would be able to block it in time or he'd start out with something less grievous. I'm so sorry I was wrong. But you're alive, thank God, and that hex alone secured his imprisonment in Azkaban, even without Alan's confessions to those other murders being allowed as evidence at the trial. It's iron-clad, he's going away for a long time, possibly forever.” Harry held her hand in assurance that she was safe. He left a great sigh escape and rested his forehead against their clasped hands, looking as tired as Ron.

After a while, Harry left with a promise to return later on with Zhubanysh, who had been very worried as well.

Ron stayed after Harry left.

“Did you come after practice?” Hermione asked.

“No, I haven't been to practice all week, not since...” Ron trailed off, unwilling to say what it was, an attempted murder. “I can still show up tomorrow and be ready for the game this weekend. Coach understood, considering the situation. You attack was mentioned in the Daily Prophet.”

Hermione groaned at the idea of being at the center of news yet once again. It was bad enough during the other times, most recently with her divorce from Ron, but the nephew of the Minister of Magic? Hermione assumed the Daily Prophet must have had a field day with that news, even with Minister Fudge's attempts to suppress the news.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them before Ron asked, “So, do you want to tell me about Snape?”

Hermione looked at Ron in shock that he had discovered. “How...?”

“You called out his name in your sleep.” Ron paused while Hermione gave him a guilty look and buried her face in her hands, unable to look him in the eye. “Lav told me how he was pretending to be Delgado and that you two had become... erm... close. And it seems Harry knew about it as well, since he didn't look shocked at all.”

Hermione and Ron talked for a while, about her own straying from her vows during the final months of their marriage. She also omitted details about the less savory aspects of Severus' work.

“I must admit, I was initially a bit upset when I found out, but for me to be angry over it would be extremely hypocritical of me,” Ron admitted, which shocked Hermione for him to admit that in such a mature fashion. “Thinking over it, since I found out yesterday, I thought back to that time we did that interview with Luna for The Quibbler. I remembered how you said if it was you who had fallen in love with someone else during our marriage instead of me, someone you had shared a deep connection with, then you hoped I would understand that you never meant to hurt me.”

There was another long stretch of strained silence between them, Hermione unable to find the words to respond to her own words recalled by Ron.

Ron leaned forward and patted her hand. “I couldn't understand at the time how you could forgive me so easily, but now I do. And I can't fault you for finding love yourself.” He sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Granted, Snape would have been the last person I ever thought would have been the one, but if he and you...” He shook his head. “At least he loves you, at least by what Lav told me.”

“Used to,” Hermione corrected him, the tears welling in her eyes.

Before Ron could ask the meaning behind that comment, Hermione caught sight of a mounded basket of lemons on the dresser across the room, next to a couple bouquets of flowers.

“You brought lemons?” she asked.

“Yeah, the ones from the cemetery. You seemed so attached to them for some silly reason, I figured a basket of them to cheer you up would not be amiss.” Ron Summoned one with his wand and tossed it up and down in the air, the fruit making a soft thumping sound when caught. “Seems weird to have a lemon tree growing up out of Dumbledore's grave for no reason whatsoever. Wouldn't it be funny if Dumbledore somehow Transfigured these lemons from something after his death. Seems like something he'd do, the mad old codger.”

Hermione's head felt a rush of adrenaline, more powerful than when under captivity by Alan.

“I am a dunce, an absolute fucking dunce,” she said to herself. Turning to her ex-husband, she said, “Ron, you are brilliant, absolutely fucking brilliant.”

Ron shrugged, a little abashed at Hermione's exclamations about his brilliance, but unsure what she was going on about.

===============

A/N: Fan Art by Kallie LeFavre (http://kallielef.deviantart.com/), commissioned by me. Hermione and Severus fleeing together in the dreamworld: https://67.media.tumblr.com/6174330af82b3b59a0915e0263aaa4c3/tumblr_ocy30qqIvz1ugsuuho1_1280.jpg

~o0o~ END of SEASON III ~o0o~

Thank you to my fabulous betas for this chapter, JuneW and Cygnuz. Give a round of applause for all my betas that have worked so hard during “Season 3” to make my fic spiffy enough for reading: JuneW, Cytherea, Cygnuz, Hope and thegreyladies

Lemons? Will we finally get some answers on these damn lemons finally? You bet!

Will Hermione ever come to learn of the floral mix-up that accidentally broke her heart? Will Severus figure out why he was in a coma for two days? Will Hermione and Severus ever be reunited? Will Draco make cassoulet without bread crumbs?

As Dory from “Finding Nemo” might say, “Just keep reading, just keep reading, just keep reading...”
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After