Getting Past Broken: Part Two

[tychesong]

Severus Tobias Snape had always considered himself to be a very intuitive man. He was able to understand the measure of a person, a potion, or a situation very quickly; it had always been one of his talents. If he had only been so endowed with charm and fair features as well, his life might have turned out very differently.

In this alternate world, Severus might have had a more solid sense of support from his peers at school, and have been less of a target, despite his intensity. Slughorn would likely have taken more of an interest in him and he would have had clear backing. Perhaps Lily Evans would have been attracted to him and not merely his friend out of a sense of childhood obligation. Perhaps they would have embarked upon a relationship that would have eventually run its course and ended before her interest had ever turned to James.

As an adult, Severus knew that he and Lily would never have truly worked as a couple in a long-term sense-handsome or not, his interest in the Dark Arts was genuine, and would have eventually driven her away. Even if it had not, he would still have been a Slytherin, still likely have gained her enmity in later years when he was no longer able to tone himself down around her, and still likely have joined Voldemort out of a combination of peer pressure and his own fascination with the Dark Arts. Lily Evans had been a girl who had needed gentle handling of her delicate sensibilities-caustic words and cutting wit were highly hurtful to her-she wasn't the sort who could verbally spar without anger and resentment.

He had always been so very careful around her, pussyfooting and gentling himself to suit her needs in his own misguided sense of hormonal attraction and desperation to keep his only "true" friend. The connection he hadn't made at that age was that, in order to continue their friendship, he had to be that way with everybody, and not just her. Word inevitably reached her of his usual and customary responses to annoyances and idiots and, of course, she could see his interest in the Dark Arts for herself. When added on top of that the discomfort of knowing he was interested in her and not returning the attraction…well it was no wonder the chasm and resentment between them had grown on both sides.

He could see it all now very clearly; he had puzzled it all out within the first year or so following her death. He had finally been mature enough at that point to sort it out, and had possessed no shortage of time to think. It was a pity that he hadn't been nearly as intuitive as an adolescent as he had thought himself to be. He might have realised then the futility of his crush and drawn the logical conclusion that he would have resented her for changing him, as much as she had resented him for refusing to let her go. Perhaps she would not have turned into an obsession for him and his choices as a young man would have been broader.

Severus felt his lips quirk as he remembered how consuming she had felt to him-that desperate surety that she was the love of his existence and always would be. Hormones were absolute hell on the teenage psyche and their logic, not to mention their actual decision-making. Likely nothing would have changed in the slightest.

Which brought him to Hermione Granger. She wandered through his thoughts on a regular basis-how could she not, when he could feel the subtle compulsion in the back of his mind that linked them? It tickled at him on a regular basis, usually in those short moments when he briefly managed to forget about it. He was very nearly able to ignore it-had he not lived with the feeling of someone else's life demanding first consideration since he was sixteen? The more one tries to ignore something, however, the more it tends to worm into one's consciousness, even if one is a master Occlumens.

The girl's situation did not actually seem too different from his own with Lily, the major difference being of course, that she had given in to the Weasley boy when he would never truly be right for her. She was likely afraid of losing his friendship, or nervous that she wouldn't find someone who was suitable. Why else would she involve herself with him? He was clearly more interested in her than she was in him, and for good reason.

Weasley couldn't possibly keep up with her mentally, and their interests were so divergent that the idea of common ground was very nearly laughable. Potter was the adhesive in that threesome; without him or their shared ideal of a Voldemort-free world binding them together, they really had nothing to keep them from falling apart but their own Gryffindor stubbornness.

Even she had mentioned in a rather embarrassingly emotional and inappropriate slip of the tongue that Weasley couldn't satisfy her sexually; that even the notion of bedding him put her in the mind-set of a harassed, put-upon wife. If that was not an obvious sign of someone forcing herself to be more interested in her partner than actuality, nothing was.

Thank heavens he didn't have to deal with such things any longer. After Potter had broadcast his alleged "reasons" for his double agent status, he had been painted in an alarmingly romantic light. Little idiot never thought for a moment that the memories released to him were carefully chosen to appeal to his own sense of Gryffindor morals. Of course, any major life decisions would have been made for love, no matter how long ago the events took place. Certainly it never would have occurred to Potter that a man was an entirely different person at forty than at twenty, or that the nightmarish years of being a double agent were due to owing Albus Dumbledore a life debt that he desperately wanted to be rid of.

Potter's loud mouth had cleared his name definitively of any guilt, at least legally, and had gained him not only an Order of Merlin, First Class, but also a rather substantial monetary reward. Unfortunately, it had also come with some rather lamentable side effects. For several months, there had been a great deal of Britain's population that seemed to think he would make excellent husband material, he only needed to be hugged more often, or some other such nonsense, to make him see the truth of how perfect the notion was. He had received love letters, "casual" run-ins at shops, several marriage proposals, and notably, even a pair of witches who had-independently of each other!-both claimed to have already married him in absentia in spiritual ceremonies. Horrifying.

The positive aspect of the completely ridiculous affair was that his sex life had become considerably more active. Thus far he had been careful about his choices, sticking to partners he was certain were more interested in his fame than their marriage prospects. He had only been forced to deal with an embarrassing scene once. He honestly wasn't sure what the woman had really expected; his reputation for being a bit of a bastard was hardly secret, and he had never once lead her to believe that she was anything but a tension reliever.

Weasley on the other hand…the young man was certainly a thoughtless idiot, but he had never had the reputation for being cruel. Severus had not thought he would be the sort to make his girlfriend cry as vehemently as Hermione had. She had been overwrought, clearly, but she had also been deeply upset; her tears were decidedly not merely the product of a long, awful day composed of little things gone awry.

Severus frowned as he realised she had drifted into his thoughts again, and attempted to focus on the phosphorous foxglove he was currently tending to. He really, devoutly hoped she wouldn't asininely decide that her heart's desire was Ronald Weasley, thereby forcing him to play matchmaker. His frown became a sneer, and he fancied to himself that the foxglove wilted a bit from it.

No doubt he would be doing the poor flowers no favours remaining out here-he really ought to go in and bathe for the day before his temper turned utterly sour and he took it out on the outdoor garden. Picking up the silvered trowel he had been using, Severus leveraged himself to his feet with a low grunt, and turned, only to be brought up short by the very object of his thoughts almost trotting down the path toward him.

The image was inexplicably stunning; she looked rather like he might have imagined a wood fae. Her long, curling hair was still damp from her morning ablutions, the extra weight taming it into actual curls rather than the thick, bushy mass it usually appeared to be. She wore a dress that draped and floated about her form-it was far more appealing than the severe Muggle style she had appeared in, the night before.

Not that the pencil skirt did not have its appeal; when she had bent over in the tightly fitted skirt to retrieve her shoes, he had been treated to a surprisingly spectacular view. She had always seemed so trim; the sudden realization that Hermione Granger had a rather delectable arse had definitely been noteworthy. She had caught him looking of course, but still uncertain, and that had led to her humorously landing on said arse. It was an effort not to smile at the memory.

The thought suddenly made him take heed that her smile was utterly beguiling. It was wide and open, her eyes shining with undisguised and uninhibited delight. Severus actually found himself glancing about to see who that expression might actually be aimed at, which was ridiculous of course, since he was currently standing in a corner. He felt a slight pang of disappointment. Clearly the girl had gone mad; it was a terrible shame-honestly a waste.

"Severus!" She called, waving a hand at him as if he had somehow missed the sight of her nearly flying across the grounds to him. She drew up to a halt directly in front of him, her cheeks flushed prettily and her breath coming in short pants from her exertion. His stomach tightened in response and he shied away from the implication. "I'm so glad to see you!" she enthused.

Mad…, his mind confirmed mournfully. Such a waste…

"I mean, of course I would have seen you at breakfast, obviously, but I might have gone mad thinking about it in the meantime…"

Obviously.

"…perfect solution, and…are you quite alright, Severus?"

Severus blinked, realising that he had missed the majority of her babbling, and in an effort to recover, snipped at her, "Hermione Granger, I have seen first years with better diction and decorum. You used to be one of them; do slow down a bit, before you choke on your own tongue, and repeat yourself."

She ducked her head a bit, her smile wilting a little in embarrassment. He absolutely did not find that disappointing. He had done very well without anyone smiling at him for years now. After a moment, her eyes met his again, a smile curling her lips and her voice vibrating in controlled excitement. "I believe I have found a solution to our problem," she said.

"Overnight?" Severus felt his brows lift incredulously.

Hermione's cheeks coloured again, but she held his gaze steadily, her expression deadly serious. "There is nothing I can think of in this world that I could ever want more than this. I've been held back, limited and defined because of them; I want that fixed. I want them gone."

A chill snaked down his spine, despite the steadily growing warmth of the rising July sun. Was she asking him to murder someone? Disappointment shot through him. He had thought more of her than this; she had always seemed so pure, above the sort of hatred that makes one person willing to see to the cold blooded death of another. He had believed she thought more of him than this. He supposed he should not have been surprised.

I suppose it's easier to not feel guilty about murder, if the person you ask already has blood on his hands. The thought felt terribly bitter. At some point in the last year, he'd foolishly allowed himself to believe that he might actually get to live in relative peace, and now in exchange for a life debt, he was being asked to shackle himself with more guilt. "Who?" The question was perfunctory and cold.

Her eyes took on a haunted cast, and the shadows under them suddenly seemed deeper to him. "Greyback, Bellatrix, Malfoy Manor…all of it."

Severus frowned, not understanding. Both the werewolf and Bellatrix Lestrange had died over a year ago-and she did not expect him to destroy Malfoy Manor in some way, did she? Why would she feel that was essential to her life, to her well-being? He knew better than most the impact childhood enmity could have on one's life, but she hadn't thought that things had escalated between her and Draco so far. She had nearly grinned so genuinely in excitement over the prospect, as well. Circe, maybe the girl really had gone mad. War had done worse to people in the past. "Hermione," he began, carefully.

"I want you to Obliviate me," she interrupted. "Harry, Ron and I were held there, a bit, before the end." She wrapped her arms around herself in what appeared to be a subconscious gesture, and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Bad things happened there, things I want to forget." Her eyes flew to his and she entreated, "Things I need to forget. I won't ever be able to move on if I don't; I'll never be able to heal, to fall in love, to just…enjoy sex, if you don't. I'm only twenty-I don't want to be broken for the next hundred and fifty years! You wanted to know what I want more than anything else in the world-well I want to forget!"

Ahhhhh, shite. He had known that rape was a regularly employed demoralization and fear tactic for many of the Death Eaters-many of them had enjoyed the feeling of power it had given them. He hadn't realised that she had been a victim of it, and Fenrir Greyback had been more enthusiastic and brutal than most. It was not any wonder, really, that the girl was having trouble enjoying herself sexually, that she was desperate to forget, particularly if she had been a virgin at the time. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter aside, Severus had a sneaking suspicion she had been.

Severus felt himself sigh, heavily, and gestured to one of the many benches that were littered throughout the castle grounds. Her eyes shuttered as she read his intent to refuse her request. For a moment he thought she would burst into tears again and run, but to her credit, she stiffly walked to the bench and sat, all traces of her smile gone.

"There is a reason memory charms are illegal, Hermione," he said quietly. "It's not simply a matter of tampering with the essence of who a person is-though that is bad enough. They are incredibly dangerous. There is no way to control Obliviation; if you try to just erase single memories, little thoughts, it starts to unravel the whole mind-there's nothing left in just a few short hours; and that is if the caster is incredibly good at Obliviation. You recall Lockhart, of your second year, I presume? It would be as good as murdering you, Hermione. I can't do that."

"But…we use memory charms all the time-the Ministry has an entire security class for it!" Her wide, pleading eyes actually glistened, and Severus once again felt disappointed that he wouldn't be able to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"We Obliviate and charm the memories of Muggles. In witches or wizards, however, a false memory charm-like the one used on your parents-will unravel, and the mind will heal and grow the correct set of memories back over time. Obliviation, on the other hand, will continue along the wizard or witch's thoughts and take everything there is. By the time a simple Obliviation is finished on a magic user, they often have to re-learn how to talk and wipe their own arse. That is not something I would ever be willing to do to you. You have one of the finest minds Hogwarts has seen in over a decade. I'll not be party to destroying it."

Hermione lowered her head, her dark, still-damp curls hiding her features, and her shoulders shook slightly as she began to cry. Severus reached out a hand to awkwardly place it on her back, and then let it drop again to the back of the bench. He might have been head of Slytherin House for twelve years, but he didn't do hugs or comforting pats, and people didn't accept them when he did.

Instead he shifted his gaze back to the far curtain wall of the castle. The sun had finally managed to clear the mountains beyond entirely and glistened on the edge of a thousand tiny dewdrops of the lawn beyond the garden but before the wall itself. The summer-blooming flowers that had been planted alongside the walkways were vibrant looking; the day was clearly going to be one of those few, gorgeously picturesque ones that made the rest of the year in the Scottish mountains bearable.

After several minutes of quiet weeping, during which Severus couldn't seem to make himself merely get up and abandon her, she sniffled a little, and lifted her head again, her eyes newly-swollen and red.

"What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to move on with things with it always in the way?"

Severus felt his lungs freeze for a moment. He was no therapist; he was quite possibly the worst person in the world to ask for this sort of advice in the entire world. "Time, I believe, is the only thing that can help. It takes time to heal from trauma, particularly something like rape-"

"Iwasn'traped." She cut him off in a breathless rush, grimaced a little, and then continued, "I wasn't. I was, I mean, he tried. He wanted to. They ripped my clothes and tortured me. I was sliced up a bit and subjected to the Cruciatus. He ground himself into me and held me down, threatened me, but he never…it didn't get that far. You must think I'm especially pathetic, now, don't you? It wasn't even really as awful as some women had done to them, and I let it control me like this. I just can't seem to help it! I keep flashing back to it every time." She shivered.

He considered her for a moment. "Just because it could have been worse, does not mean it was not still awful. Sexual assault is nothing that can be merely brushed off. If you don't mind me asking," he asked, carefully, "does it affect everything? Every time you are touched, every time you have kissed? Have you gotten that far at all?"

Hermione took a deep, shaky breath. "You are the last person I ever expected to discuss this with."

Severus felt himself recoil mentally. Of course. Of course she wouldn't want to speak of it-especially not to a man-especially not to him. He was the foreboding, brooding, nasty git of the dungeons. Hadn't he just speculated to himself that he was not the comforting sort? He was making a bloody fool of himself, and he should just take his leave and quit, before he ended up making it unbearable to ever look at her again. He still had that fucking life debt to deal with someday, after all. He had halfway stood, a stiff farewell on his lips, when she spoke again.

"At first, yes. I couldn't touch Ron, I could hardly look at him; I was so ashamed. It got better, though, easier. I trusted him, and the little things didn't hurt: holding hands, a bit of kissing. I even thought I mightn't have any trouble at all. Now, a year later, I just can't.Every time he gets on top of me I flashback and it's like it's happening all over again. I just panic. As soon as I feel his weight I trigger and start fighting. When I finally did, you know, have sex," she stumbled over it and blushed uncomfortably, "it just hurt."

Severus whipped his head around to stare at her with a hard expression. "He had sex with you while you were fighting him?" he asked sharply.

"What? No!" Hermione's eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. "No, I wouldn't have let him get away with that. It was just entirely unpleasant."

Severus looked at her impassively and said, with a warning question, "I thought you had said you immediately trigger and flashback when sex is attempted?"

"We didn't do it the usual way. That once, he uh, like animals, you know, so he wasn't really on me, and I had my wand the whole time, and it was horridly painful, but it didn't feel like before, being pinned down, you know?"

Severus was still stuck on the first sentence. "You didn't do it the usual way."

The girl blushed crimson. "I know, it's not right, and he didn't like it much, I know, but I couldn't seem to do it the right way, and he said he supposed it was better than nothing."

Severus stared, unable to help himself. "The right way?"

"Are you really going to make me explain?" Her eyes were pleading with his again. "I know you're an intelligent man, Severus Snape. Please don't make me actually say it."

"You're telling me that your boyfriend has never thought to let you control the pace, to be on top of him? Furthermore, you've been informed that it was unusual and wrong to do it anyway but his way, but that he supposed he could accept sex-a major step for you-if you were on your hands and knees and he was still in complete control?"

Hermione grimaced. "It sounds daft when you say it like that-but he really refuses to even try anything else, and it was such a terrible experience, that I would really rather not do it that way again."

Idiotic, ridiculous, fucking imbecilic moron! Severus felt the sudden urge to track down the Weasley boy and smack him upside the head. Possibly with Hermione's beloved copy of Hogwarts, A History. "You were a virgin?" he grated out instead.

"Professor-Severus!" she spluttered, clearly uncomfortable.

Severus made an impatient gesture with his hand, slicing the air abruptly. "Bear with me, I may have a solution for you yet. Just answer the question. Think of it as a clinical one, not a personal one."

"Rather hard not to take something like that personally," she muttered, blushing furiously.

Severus arched an eyebrow. "That's a 'yes,' then."

"I never said that!"

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes a little and sneering. "You didn't have to. It's written all over your face."

She ducked her head again, her cheeks still stained.

Severus let out an aggravated sigh, and said, "Very few women, if any, I am given to understand, find their first time a pleasurable experience. I don't imagine that being pressured, emotionally stressed, mentally bullied and put in an uncomfortable position would help that process at all."

Her hands, he noted, were clasped very firmly in her lap, her knuckles white from her grip on herself. "I don't think you're ruined forever, Miss Granger," he told her quietly, falling back into the habit of addressing her formally. "I think you had a terrible experience, followed by a terrible boyfriend. I would recommend that you not give up; most men are entirely more flexible with the positions they prefer, and infinitely more patient with their lovers than Weasley," he sneered the name. "When you are ready to get past this, try again with someone who will listen to you, a person whom you trust to take things at the pace that you need; to help you find what you like, instead of merely telling you what it should be. You're a strong enough person to beat this.

"But finding that kind of bond with someone might take years."

Severus' gave her a wry look. "He doesn't have to be the love of your life; he just has to be slightly less of an idiot than Weasley. I assure you, it will not be that hard. I'm sure the simple request would be enough for most."

"You mean, just, ask someone?" She was aghast. "I can't just ask someone to be my sex-therapist!"

Her choice of words, paired with that expression, very nearly made him smile. He had not thought of it in so many words, but he supposed that yes, that was the sort of thing he'd had in mind. Feeling slightly pleased that she at least wasn't sniffling anymore, and enjoying the way he was shocking her just a bit, he responded casually, "Why not? You are a young, intelligent heroine of the war who is not unattractive. I'm sure there would be plenty of men interested in, ah, being your 'sex therapist.'"

If he were really lucky, he might be able to actually line-up said man, and be able to take credit for the whole thing, thus releasing him from his vow. Mentally he began to run down a list of young men he had taught over the years who would not balls it up that she might find attractive. He very nearly missed her next query. When it did register, his brain shut down entirely for quite possibly the first time in his life-probably because all of the oxygen had seized in his lungs.

"Whhat?" he wheezed.

"I said, 'are you?'" Her expression was cool, almost defiant, but the way her fingers still gripped each other belied the nervousness behind her question.

"Miss Granger!" His entire being bristled with indignation. There was really no call for her to ask him something like that! He knew he wasn't the comforting, wishy-washy sort, but bugger it, he'd been trying!

"Hermione, remember? We're using first names, now, you said."

"That is…ludicrous, utter rot. Entirely inappropriate. I could be your father."

Hermione shrank in on herself slightly, and said in a very small voice, "So it's because I'm too young? I'm twenty, you know, three years and change past adulthood in the Wizarding world. The age difference is hardly anything compared to some, and you said that it didn't have to be about love or…or anything. Just trust, and I, well I trust you."

The girl had really, truly gone stark raving mad. Round the bend. Loony. "Absolutely not," he ground out.

She seemed to wilt a little again. "So it is because I'm me. Hermione. I think it is going to be rather harder than you think to find someone who I'll be able to trust that way, and actually wants me." She saw his lifted eyebrows and hastily added, apparently genuinely, "Oh, it's quite alright. I know exactly what I am. I've been told multiple times. Skinny, bossy, know-it-all with horrid hair and ugly scars, and frigid."

Her certainty of her lack of appeal, the absence of the self-confidence that had always been inherent in so many other areas of her life was both bewildering and frustrating. "Hermione Granger," he thundered, "you have absolutely nothing to fear in regards to your appeal. Nothing. Stop being such a twit and looking for compliments. You're above that."

Her eyes flashed, and for a moment a hint of the old defiance he was more accustomed to seeing in her surfaced. "I wasn't-!" She took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm herself, and gave him an impassive look. "I would be indebted, very much so."

Fuck. Her offer dangled between them; the promise of both of their freedoms. The idea was absurd; she was his student only two years ago, and she was Hermione-Bloody-Fucking-Granger. Severus felt his throat tighten a bit. It didn't matter, though, did it. She held his Life Debt-he could feel it in the back of his skull even now. She could demand it if she chose. Stiffly, he clarified, "Are you ordering me discharge my debt this way?"

Hermione's eyes widened in horror and she shook her head furiously. "No! No, never. I would never take the choice away from you. It would be no different than...no." Hermione drew herself back and her expression blanked again, concealing her thoughts. "It was a request to be considered, that is all."

"Ah. Respectfully then, I will decline," he answered back, equally formally, and then, irritably, "Why would you chose me anyway? Some sort of misguided form of pity because I owe you a life debt and you want to save me from it?"

She was back to looking at her clasped hands again, her long hair shielding her face. "You've been honest, and very kind these last few hours. I would trust you not to lie to me about it, or to take advantage of me."

It was an effort to not actually snort at that. He cast a sardonic look askance at her, which of course she missed. She could not have possibly missed his tone, however when he inquired, "You have arbitrarily decided to trust that I of all people would not take advantage of you?"

Her head lifted and she responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "Well, yes, of course. You can be terribly rude, but you do have a sense of honour. A person would have to be blind not to see that. Not to mention taking advantage of me like this would hardly help your situation; it's because you owe me a Life Debt that I trust you to have my best interests in mind. It was a silly idea, however, you've made it clear you are uninterested. I'll not mention it again."

Severus nodded abruptly, still a bit stunned from the whole situation and stood. "Quite." He didn't attend breakfast in the Great Hall that day, or any other meal for that matter. When he discreetly inquired of her whereabouts from a house elf later that afternoon, he was informed she had left the castle.

"You told her no?" The look on Lucius Malfoy's face was utterly shocked; an expression it didn't bear often. Looking like he was doing it more out of long habit than because he actually wanted any, Severus' old friend lent forward and poured them each a glass of wine, his expression still dumbfounded. "Have you completely lost your mind, Severus? Why in Hades would you do such a thing?"

"She was my student a mere two years ago; in normal circumstances it would have been only one year ago. It would be entirely inappropriate! And tea, please. You know I don't drink." Severus added the last bit irritably. Severus hadn't touched alcohol in years and yet Malfoy always tried to give him it-it was incredibly annoying.

Lucius rolled his eyes uncharacteristically and summoned a house elf, relaying the orders. "Plebeian. Someday I shall cure you of both that idiot notion, as well as your poor manners and worse fashion sense."

"Not bloody likely."

"Did you know Narcissa redecorated this room to 'compliment' you? She always thought your wardrobe went horridly with the furnishings."

"She redecorated a room because she hated my wardrobe?" Severus was incredulous. "That seems a bit of a stretch, even for Narcissa."

"It was her excuse, at any rate. Honestly, the woman just got bored and took it out on the décor on a regular basis; terribly fond of the word 'complimentary,' my late wife."

Severus felt his lips twitch, but kept it in check as he noted the wistful look on his friend's face. "Lucius," he began, but then the other man waved away his words and fixed him with a hard stare.

"Now then. Back to the matter at hand. Severus, the majority of the British Wizarding population under the age of thirty has been a pupil of yours at some point; the girl has graduated. Sure, tongues might wag a bit, but not very loudly. There would likely be more gossip over the fact that there was a woman at all, since you've been allegedly pining for Lily Potter all these years." Lucius Malfoy's wry look said he knew better than to believe it. "Really, Severus, there would only be a fuss if people found out, in any case, and it isn't as if you're marrying the chit."

"But it's Hermione Granger. You don't think that's a terrible idea? I hadn't thought you were a particular fan of hers."

Lucius' mouth firmed into a dignified mien. "I would do it myself, if I thought she'd let me near her." At Severus' disbelieving look, the expression became cross and he scolded, "She was injured in my home, Severus, under my hospitality. It is a shameful mark on our honour that I have yet to make recompense. Not to mention my family owes Potter our lives three times over. He has invoked Ius Familiae; any member of my family may repay the debts to any member of his family. Since he formally adopted her as a sibling eight months ago, that includes Miss Granger. So yes, I would jump at the chance in return for marking it off our ledger. As you have decided to turn it down, I likely will make the offer, and so will Draco."

Severus sneered. "Draco is not only her childhood nemesis, but also engaged; she would never accept."

"He'll offer nonetheless." Lucius' tone brooked no argument. He stared at his friend through slitted eyes, and swirled the wine in his glass idly. "What is it that has you running scared, Severus? Do you find her that repulsive? Are you convinced of your inability to perform?"

Severus felt himself make a choking noise, and his own sip of tea nearly came out his nose. "No, of course not. She is perfectly adequate and so are my abilities. She is no great beauty, of course, but she is far from hideous. I just have no wish to bed her."

His old friend shook his head in disbelief. "Your last life debt required you to depend on the whims and volatile moods of a despot, to kiss the hem of a madman for months-and then again for years, before finally culminating in murder."

Severus didn't flinch from the reminder. He had long since decided to not apologise for what he had been forced to do, and Lucius knew it. Why then was he bothering? His manners were usually impeccable-at least with those he liked. He gave the other man a steady, cold stare and took another sip of his tea, daring him to keep pushing. To his surprise, the older man laughed.

"Don't glare so, Severus. I am merely trying to understand. After all you were willing to do, willing to put yourself through for the sake of your last incurred Life Debt, I just find it passing strange that you won't bring yourself to teach a young woman to enjoy her own carnality? Not only would it not even be that difficult to do-the girl is far from passionless-but it could barely be described as a hardship. I would be tempted to do it even without my own family's trouble, and maybe gamble a bit on the side. Things have been very dull for me since Narcissa passed, and Hermione Granger would be the perfect foot back into the door of the Ministry."

Severus spluttered, unable to keep up even the pretence of not being utterly shocked. The Order of the Phoenix may have won the war, and Lucius might have gotten out relatively unscathed, but it did not change who he fundamentally was. "You would actually seek her hand, as well?" he finally choked out.

The other man shrugged casually, a smug smile in place, and ticked off on his fingers. "Why not? As a member of Potter's family it would cancel my family's debts entirely; it would put me back into the social circles that are currently important, and I already have a pure-blood son to succeed me, so another heir is not strictly necessary, and if they did…occur, they would not be the firstborn heir." Lucius shrugged, then added, "And even you have to admit that she is intelligent. Good conversation is awfully hard to come by."

Severus blinked and then realised his mouth was slightly ajar. "Why…why not, she's Draco's age! In fact, they spent most of their time in school at each other's throats. You don't think it would be a bit odd at Christmas dinner?"

Lucius lifted a brow. "It will be fine; Draco will adjust, and he will have a new wife to keep him busy-Astoria is fond of drama."

"Yes," Severus answered, still feeling a bit lost, "I remember. She was responsible for a great deal of the mischief in her year and the one immediately above in Slytherin House…not that it could be traced to her." He contemplated a moment. "What of Hermione?"

"What of her?"

Severus eyed his friend; the casual tone Lucius was using was just a touch overdone. For some reason, he seemed to think that he was winning something with this conversation. The question was what? Something so small and slight as the upper hand for the moment? Or a larger game? Was he warning Severus off Hermione Granger, or attempting to push him forward or neither at all? It could be so hard to tell with the other man.

Severus chose his words cautiously. "Hermione Granger is fragile right now, Lucius, more fragile than I would have ever imagined her to ever be. Handle this incorrectly and you could end up breaking her entirely, instead of saving her." He hesitated. "She's not the sort who marries for political reasons, old friend, and she's definitely not the sort who would take kindly to being lied to. Whatever the benefits are to having this union, if you don't decide to do it with everything you have, she is going to make your life living hell."

"Why Severus, are you warning me to be faithful to her or fall in love or some other such silly nonsense?"

Severus felt his cheeks burn, and responded quickly, "Of course not, I'm just pointing out that she's unlikely to accept-"

"Good. You know the idea of anything beyond good sex and affection is laughable." Lucius seemed to study him a moment, then said, as if testing him, "I realise that your oath is making you feel a bit protective, but I really don't see how it's your business if I proceed, Severus. You've made it abundantly clear that you're not planning on helping her-or yourself, for that matter-at all. It's a bit odd to see you taking the stuffy Hufflepuff route, but everyone has their moments." Lucius Malfoy tilted his head a bit and wrinkled his nose. "I suppose."

Severus returned to his suite at Hogwarts shortly after that and began to think. His friend did have a point; he had done far worse things in his life for Life Debts than have sex with a student. She wasn't even really his student any longer. She hadn't been for two full years. She regularly took tea and had lunch with other professors, she had a full time job, and fought in the war as a warrior fully in the trenches.

The memory of her skipping across the grounds to him that morning, her dress floating about her calves, her smile brilliant, her curves soft…Hermione Granger was definitely not a child, and she had specifically asked him. She was well aware of who he was, his age, what he looked like, and she had asked him anyway. She trusted him; even if the trust was only in that he wouldn't want to destroy his own chances of discharging his Life Debt.

Which was another thing; he would be free. He had been offered the possibility of losing the horrible axe hanging over his head by taking a young, attractive, intelligent woman to his bed and showing her pleasure. Something stirred inside him and he realised it was possible. It was actually, truly possible to do what Hermione was asking; to just once accept this odd boon that whichever god he almost believed in had decided to grant him.

Mind made up, Severus went to bed and felt hope that his future would be brighter for the first time since his graduation.

He managed to talk himself back out of it the following morning. Then cursing himself for a fool, had settled on accepting her request again by lunchtime. He remained resolved through his meal, planning to visit the bookstore and purchase some helpful materials on sensual massage and aura stimulation. The envisioned the look on Madam Idell's face when he got to the counter of Flourish and Blotts to purchase said books nearly made him change his mind again.

The workers of both F&B and Selena's Books in Hogsmeade all knew him too well to make the experience bearable; he would have to go elsewhere. He could visit a Muggle shop, but the books would then not contain the magical aspects of what he wanted to know. He would likely have to go to the Wizarding bookstore in Glasgow, with which he was much less familiar.

By tea-time, his anxiety over being naked in front of Hermione Granger, much less having sex with her, had convinced him that he had made the correct decision after all in telling her no. This lasted a full two hours before the Life Debt gnawed at the back of his mind and the memory of Lucius' smug smile, when he mentioned marrying her, disposing of his life own Debts and using her to gain entrance back into high society, intruded.

He was not especially fond of Hermione Granger, but she didn't deserve that sort of treatment. She was not a Slytherin pure-bred to take it as the compliment that Lucius no doubt thought of it as; she would no doubt feel ill-used in the extreme by such manipulation. Not to mention that provided he could get past his own uneasiness, sex with a lusciously-arsed witch half his age could hardly be considered troublesome.

Severus resolved to go to her home the next day and take her up on her request, and then made a trip to the Glasgow Wizarding bookshop.

It was rather appallingly easy to get her address. Minerva had seen him returning to the castle just before supper with his bag of purchases rather glaringly printed with "Rolled Up and Bound," and had grinned.

"It's a bookshop," he had answered, scowling. "According to them, it's 'Glasgow's largest destination for all your scroll and book needs.'"

The insufferable woman's grin didn't falter in the slightest. "Not one of your usual haunts. What made you decide on an impromptu shopping trip to a store that doesn't know better to cater to your every whim at this hour? "

Severus sneered with as much dignity as one could whilst clutching a bag emblazoned with "Rolled Up and Bound," and informed her, "Hermione Granger and I discussed several books the other evening whist you were out, and Flourish and Blots did not have them in. I plan to lend them to her for a bit."

"She couldn't get them for herself?" The elderly woman's smile was just a bit too knowing.

"It's long past time I owned them, anyway. Would you mind sharing her address so that I might have them delivered?" A brow was cocked, her smug smile still in place, but she had written it down for him. It wasn't until he had made it safely back into his rooms that he realised the bright red title of one of his purchases, Erotic Massage to Please Your Witch was clearly visible through the thin paper of the white bag. Honestly, fulfilling this Life Debt might just kill him yet.

He had spent the next several hours studying the three books he had bought; he might be quite a bit more sexually active since the press had romanticized him, but he had not really paid a whole lot of attention to sexual techniques and arousal methods-something he would need in his current situation.

It was raining when he arrived outside her little house in London, forcing him to shield himself to keep from getting utterly drenched. Her Floo had been disconnected and her home had been heavily warded to provide the necessary amount of privacy for a war heroine, and Severus doubted he would have located it without Minerva's help. He supposed he could have-and should have-owled her first, but the possibility of being told to bugger off by an embarrassed or disgruntled Hermione had made him opt to just show up. Much as she had to his home, he justified to himself. He was reasonably sure she would be home, as it was Sunday, but he still held his breath a bit after rapping his knuckles smartly on the front door.

To his surprise, she swung it open with an angry look, which evaporated into shock at seeing him there. She stared, her mouth open, hand slack on the door, her wand loosely clutched in her other hand for several long moments. Finally, feeling a little awkward, he cleared his throat and growled, "Well, are you going to continue to make me stand in the rain?"

Hermione shook her head as if suddenly realising what was going on, and stepped out of the way, leaving the doorway open for him to enter. He swept through, stifling the nerves trying to tell him to leave before he got himself into something over his head.

"Tea?" she offered, still looking shocked.

"Please," he responded, then, "do you always answer the door as if you are going to hex someone?"

She shrugged a little sheepishly. "I thought you were Ron. He sent me a note yesterday graciously forgiving me for my hang ups and offering to take me back."

Severus felt his lip curl. "This is from the idiot who has informed you that the only correct way to engage in sexual intercourse is one way that is guaranteed to terrify you?"

Hermione gave a mirthless laugh. "Are you going to hold it over me for the rest of my life?"

Severus felt his brows knit. "No. I had actually come to see if my…help was something you were still interested in."

Her eyes shot to his, wide and brown and-dare he believe?-hopeful. "I-yes. Yes. I would be interested, if you were, ah, so inclined," she finally stammered out. They stared at each other for long moments, both slightly disbelieving what they had both just agreed to.

The teakettle whistled obnoxiously from the kitchen, startling both of them out of the eerie spell they had found themselves in, each unwilling to look away in case it was all some sort of joke. Hermione whirled to the kitchen to abruptly to shut off the kettle and pour tea, and Severus settled uneasily into one of her sitting room chairs.

"Are you certain?" he found himself asking when she returned and nearly cursed himself. Once he had started however, he felt compelled to continue. "You must realise exactly what you are asking of whom. I am not what young women generally consider handsome and this will require a level of interest on your part. I assure you I am not hiding the body of a Greco-Roman god under my robes. I am near forty, pale, scarred, and have greasy hair." He described himself brutally. "You had best be very certain that you will not find me physically repulsive before we continue down this path."

Her eyes snapped to his and colour tinged her cheeks. To his surprise, she mumbled, "I do not think it will be a problem for me." She seemed to hesitate, and then her chin lifted boldly. "Attractive does not mean 'pretty,' you know. One can be utterly compelling and beguiling without being classically lovely." Her arms wrapped defensively around herself as if in reassurance and she added, "You have the most mesmerizing eyes I have ever known. Are you…are you sure you are able to do this with me?"

His eyes? Daft girl was mad after all. Such a waste. He looked at her vulnerable open features, so obviously hoping that he of all people would find her attractive. He would call St. Mungo's later, he decided. After.

Slowly, he stood. "Come here, Hermione, and find out."

A/N: Thank you once again for reading! Please review; things are about to really heat up... :-)

Previous Chapter Table of Contents Next Chapter