Blood of My Blood

Chapter 3: Blood Moon

October 13, 2003

Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror, pondering. Something very strange was going on here, and she was not entirely sure what it was. Just when she thought that she was getting to know Severus he started acting peculiar. Oh, he was still snarky. He still brooded. But...there was something different and she could not quite put her finger on it.

She frowned at her reflection and twirled the time-turned that was strung on her necklace. She was missing a big chunk of information, and she knew it was something vital. She sighed, wishing that she had gone to the Baron instead of holing herself up here. She had this niggling feeling that the longer she stayed here the worse Severus would get. She wasn't entirely sure why she felt this way.

Hermione played with her necklace, yanked at the chain in frustration. She had scoured all of the books in the library looking for the spell that the Baron had tried to produce that faithful Samhain...the Ewiges Leben, or Eternal Life Spell. She had only found a small mention of it here and there, but it was enough information for her to piece together what the Baron had tried to do, and how he had tricked his fellow Death-Eaters into thinking he was going to be the sacrifice, when indeed the spell would feed on their emotions, would have made the Baron nearly immortal...well...it would have had he been able to finish it.

Hermione frowned. The spell should have dissipated with the Baron's death...should have...but it did not because he had bound it within Stonehenge. The spell was part of henge until it would be completed, at the blood moon, on Samhain. The first Blood Moon to fall on Samhain since the Baron's death, and it was keyed to her blood. She felt queasy at the thought. If she did not complete the spell...well...horrible things were bound to happen. The spell had not gotten weaker, no it had fed off of the tourist and the land for hundreds of years, and now; she could feel it tingling about her; a near sentient being, calling her.

She closed her eyes, and bit at her lip, wondering what to do.

The time turner twirled. She was running out of time.

Oh, Hermione, What are you going to do?

She opened her eyes; and looked at the sad girl looking back at her. When had she grown so indecisive? She wished that she had not come to Severus for help. She had this feeling in the pit of her stomach that it would destroy him. No, she would destroy him, and she had no way of stopping it.

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"Her pure and eloquent blood

Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought,

That one might almost say, her body thought."

~John Donne, Of The Progress of The Soul: The Second Anniversary 1.244

Chapter 4: The Price of my Blood

October 20, 2003

Hermione sat in the window seat gazing out at the manor's grounds. Just twelve more days to get through and the danger would be over, just twelve more days. She hugged her knees tightly. Twelve days was an eternity. She was not sure she could stay cooped up in this prison much longer. She was itching to explore the grounds. Books were even starting to lose their appeal, which scared Hermione.

She glanced at her mother's genealogy book lying on her bed, open to their family tree. It still made her stomach twist in knots, to think about her ancestors. It also made her wonder how many supposed "Mudbloods" had less muddy blood then the wizarding world thought. How many were the result of Squibs who had left the wizarding world for the slightly more forgiving Muggle world. She wondered, and it made her depressed.

She got off of the window seat and padded across the room. She held back the urge to scrape at the page with her fingernail till his name was obliviated.

She shook her head; she was losing it. Really losing it. Being cooped up in this house was driving her mad, or maybe it was all of her dwellings on what was in her veins. Really, did it matter which it was. She thoughtfully walked out the door into the hallway to find Severus. If she didn't have an intelligent conversation with somebody soon she feared she would kill herself...or someone else.

~*~

Hermione found Severus in his lab. Somehow she wasn't surprised. He was fairly predictable. He was either in the lab, or in the library, he didn't vary too often from that theme. She sat on the table and she watched him inventory his stock of ingredients. He has beautiful hands, she mused. Pale and supple. Long fingered. She shivered at the thought of those hands on herself, and knew she had definitely been cooped up in this house far too long. She was starting to...well...she didn't even want to go there.

"What do you want Hermione?"

"Nothing."

"You're staring."

"I most certainly am not, and how would you even know, your back is to me."

"Be that as it may, my dear, I know you are."

Hermione felt the flush creep up her face. Severus turned towards her and smiled triumphantly, calling her bluff. She was entirely sure she did not like it when he smiled. It made her feel uneasy. Like the balance had just shifted, and she was on the losing end.

"What no witty rejoin, Hermione, I am sorely disappointed."

She stared at him, speechless for once, like he was some kind of new and dangerous creature. He edged across the room towards her. It had been a bad idea to come down here; she knew that now. She had avoided him for days, and should have continued to do so. She didn't like the peculiar look in his eyes, when he stared at her. It made her uneasy. It made her want to run. It, in fact, made her feel like prey. Hermione jumped off the desk, and circled around it, putting some more distance between them.

" I think I will go back to my room, Severus...yes...it was nice seeing you today."

She turned and sprinted towards the door, but he was too fast. His arms wrapped around her in a vise grip. "Not so fast, Hermione." She wriggled in his grip, but couldn't break free. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, in that silky voice, "Everything has a price, Hermione dear." She shivered, not from cold, and whimpered.

~*~

Hermione rested against the silk sheets. They soothed the bruises and irritated skin on her back. She didn't move for a long time. It hurt too much. Her eyes tried to water, but she closed them tight, in an attempt to keep the moisture from escaping. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Hermione felt the fear bubble up in her chest, and tried to push it down. Panicking would be a bad idea. She closed her eyes and tried not to move. Tried not to feel. He would be back soon. Too soon. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine, warring with her fear. Everything had a price, she wondered if she could turn this to her advantage, and if she could was she brave enough to. Hermione lay back against the sheets, and waited.

~*~

Meanwhile, Severus had returned to his laboratory to finish the potion he had been working on when Hermione had interrupted him. He frowned down at the potion; it had not spoiled. He was lucky; it would have taken him a fortnight to get it back to this level if he had to start over. He shook his head in chagrin. He had not meant for today to happen, well, eventually, but not this soon. He had hoped to lure her in willingly. He sighed, and hoped that the damage he had done today was not irreparable. He frowned again, remembering how Hermione had curled up on his bed when he left her. Maybe he shouldn't have left her. He didn't think she was suicidal; not yet anyway, but at the rate she was going. He shook his head, angry, not even sure what or who he was angry at. He should never of allowed her to sulk for this long. Should not have let her avoid him for this long. Her dwelling over that blasted genealogy book and L'histoire des Mangeurs de la Mort were just making everything worse then they should have been. She flinched at the slightest provocation, and looked as if she expected the Malfoy's to jump out to grab her at any given moment. She was jumpy, and she had become fragile, and it was his fault. Well, not entirely, but some of the blade did lay with him.

He brought the potion to a simmer, and performed a stasis charm. It would hold for a few days. He locked the door behind him as he left the laboratory, and pocketed the key before he set the wards. He didn't want Hermione getting in there by herself. He didn't want her getting any contraceptive potions. While he did not want any children, he could see how a child would be a useful tool, just another tie to bind her closer to him.