Perfection

Perfection

Chapter 15: Bitten

"Where are we?" Hermione asked, looking around inquiringly.

"In Paris, I think," he replied.

"Paris?" she repeated.

"We need to cover our tracks, don't we? We can't just lead them straight to where we are."

He was being short with her, and even in the dim lighting, she could see the tense lines etched on his face, so she knew better than to test him. Well, being in Paris explained the accordion music coming from a nearby restaurant. He dragged her a few feet away, then they apparated again.

Materializing beside her, he muttered, "Serbia," before she could ask. Not that it mattered anyway, because they were gone before she could so much as glance around.

Five such stops after, she couldn't stand it anymore and before he could disapparate, she blurted out, "I'm going to be sick," and sprinted into the closest tavern's washroom.

Once she had finished expelling her dinner into a toilet, she splashed her face with cold water and exited, staring around with curiosity at the weather-beaten fishermen around her, talking drunkenly in accents that rolled off their tongues and were barely recognizable as English. The room grew silent as they gradually noticed her in their midst, and she took the opportunity to dash out. Behind her, she heard the noise pick up again and she hurried over to Severus.

"Now where are we?" she asked, sending a confused look over her shoulder at the still partially light sky.

"In a place called St. John's, Newfoundland," he informed her tersely. "Now, if you don't mind, I really would like to arrive back at Hogwarts alive..."

She nodded, and a moment later, she found herself in a familiar setting.

"Why are we here?" she asked, eyes widening.

He closed his eyes, and it was only now, in the dim kitchen light, that she realized how much the trips had exhausted him. In fact, she wondered just how he had done it.

"Hello? Who's there?"

Agrippa's voice floated faintly down the staircase.

"It's only us, Mum," Hermione called back.

A moment later, she had joined them in the kitchen and the lights were flicked on.

"It's a pre-set destination apparating charm," he told her. "They all were. Gifts mostly. The one to Newfoundland was from an exchange student with a strange sense of humour about ten years back who decided that I needed to get drunk... The rest of them... Who knows?"

Hermione wondered vaguely why he had one that led to her house, but was still too stunned to ask. He turned to her mother and continued talking.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Granger, but I'm going to have to ask you to come with us. It's no longer safe for you to stay here, at least not for now."

She looked about to protest, but Hermione silenced her with a look.

"What about my work?" she asked quietly, looking worried.

"It's just the house that isn't safe," Severus told her, trying not look overly irritated. "You can still go into work. Now, go upstairs and pack whatever you'll be needing as quickly as possible. If you miss anything, I'm sure Molly will be happy to supply it."

Hermione felt surprise at someone ordering her mother around so naturally, especially as her mother scurried up the staircase, looking chastised.

"You and I, Hermione," he announced once she was upstairs, "will be warding the house."

"Why? It's not like anyone will be in it..."

He shot a slightly wicked grin in her direction and replied, "It will give our friends something to do."

*

Ginny awoke in the middle of the night to a crash downstairs. Heart thudding, she snatched up her wand and wrapped a blanket around herself before proceeding to unlock the door and slip out. Around her, lights flashed on and shouts could be heard as the rest of the house's occupants were startled out of sleep and hurried downstairs.

"Nice," Hermione's voice rang out. "The coffee table is a great landing pad."

"Well, excuse me, Miss Granger, but at least I can apparate."

"Just because I've never tried doesn't mean I can't... Mum, are you okay?"

Ginny, along with her parents, brothers, Harry, Lupin, and several aurors stood in a semi-circle around the three figures and the broken coffee table.

"Arthur, Molly," Snape said curtly. "I hope you don't mind, but Miss Granger and her mother will be spending the remainder of the summer here... Perhaps longer."

Ginnys' mother smiled, still looking somewhat dazed, and replied, "Of course we don't! I'm Molly Weasley, and you are...?"

"Agrippa Granger," the woman with an uncanny resemblance to Hermione replied. "And if you would excuse me, I think I'm going to..."

She was cut off in mid-sentence as she fainted, mercifully missing the bits of broken glass. While panic ensued as everyone tried to think of the best way to revive her, Ginny glanced over to where Hermione and Snape were standing, arguing in hushed tones.

"What the hell are you thinking? It's too dangerous right now. The report can wait until morning."

"Hermione..."

Ginny was caught by the tenderness in his eyes as he regarded her.

"Severus..."

"This is who I am. I can't help it. It has to be done. Now."

"You're right," Hermione whispered, and Ginny noticed that the other girl was blinking back tears. "You're always bloody right. Just try not to do anything stupid."

The redhead forced herself to look away as they embraced and focused on the crisis at hand, praying that no one else had chosen to glance over.

*

It took all of her willpower not to cry, but somehow she pulled it off. If she did, then he would be right and she would be nothing but a silly girl. And she still couldn't stand the thought of that. She watched him disapparate as a sick feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach, then turned to watch her mother weakly sip a cup of tea while resting on the sofa.

Hermione settled on the armchair where she would be able to look out of the window--even though common sense was telling her it wouldn't help--and was faintly surprised when Ginny sat on the next nearest chair.

"I just wanted to say thanks for answering my letter. It was a lot of help."

"No problem," Hermione replied, turning to face the younger girl. "Anytime."

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Ginny asked, watching closely for a reaction.

"Who, Harry?"

"No, Professor Snape," she clarified.

Hermione felt her chest tighten as she replied, "Of course he will. Don't be ridiculous."

"You like him, don't you?" Ginny asked casually.

"I admire him, yes--"

"You know what I mean."

An icy wall slid across Hermione's face as she inquired, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Not a thing. It's your life, and I'm not going to be the one telling you how to live it."

Hermione released a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. "So why are you asking."

"Because I'm a nosy bitch," she drawled with a grin.

Hermione smiled at this, "Yeah, one who's spent a little too much time with the one and only Draco Malfoy."

"Hey, I'm not criticizing your choice, even though he does need a haircut. Desperately."

"Who needs a haircut?" Ron broke in, growing tired of the other conversation. "Hey, 'Mione."

"Yeah, that was one enthusiastic greeting," she retorted. "And no one needs a haircut."

"Long time no see," Harry commented, whacking her on the arm lightly.

Hermione laughed. "Thankfully."

"Ouch. It bites. Too much time around our dear Potions Professor," Ron asserted. "I knew that there had to be some sort of long-term psychological effects."

"Wow, did I just hear a five-syllable word come out of Ronald Weasley's mouth? Someone slap me. I'm in shock," Hermione shot back, before a grin invaded her face. "It's good to see you again."

*

Hermione opened an eye the next morning, wondering vaguely what had awakened her. She enjoyed basking in the sunlight that was pouring in for a moment, until she recalled last night's events. Panic made her shoot out from underneath the covers, tripping over clothing that Ginny had strewn across the floor and nearly falling in her rush to get down the stairs. She dashed into the kitchen first, her heart sinking when she found he wasn't there, then, refusing to give up on him, continued straight on through to the living room.

She found him sitting in solitude, sipping a cup of coffee and flipping idly through the Daily Prophet.

"You're here!" she exclaimed, flinging herself over the back of the sofa like an over-excited puppy and landing on him, causing him to spill his drink everywhere.

"How very observant of you."

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder, completely oblivious to the fact that her pajamas were now soaked in coffee and he embraced her tightly.

"Er, Severus?" she began after a minute.

"Yes?"

"I can't breathe..."

He released her and took her face in his hands, tracing the outline of her jaw. "Relax," he whispered, trying to calm her trembling.

"I don't think I can."

He lowered his mouth down to hers and she felt him shift his weight so that he was kneeling. Closing her eyes, she embraced the moment, forgetting everything including the fear that someone might walk in on them.

"Hermione!"

They broke apart abruptly, moments before Hermione's mother wandered into the room, looking dazed and confused.

"Yes, mum?"

"What are you doing?" She eyed them suspiciously, taking in the rumpled clothing and coffee stains.

"Cleaning up a spill," she lied quickly, looking around frantically for a napkin.

"Yes," Severus agreed. "Now, where did I put my wand?"

Hermione nearly choked, but clearly the other two missed the innuendo.

"Are you all right, honey?" Agrippa asked, peering at her curiously.

"Yes, of course... I was just clearing my throat... Anyway, you wanted something?"

"Oh, right. Of course. Can you tell me where the kitchen is?"

*

Agrippa sighed heavily as she stirred milk her coffee mutely, ignoring the chatter of the others sitting around her, and vaguely remembering a time when she had never drank anything except herbal tea. Though she had been too much in shock to feel it then, the previous night's events had caught up with her, leaving her drained and wan. At least she would still be able to work... If not, she was positive she would run mad, what with all of the noise and things that she had been refusing to dwell on.

Like Hermione. The girl was completely different around these people that she was at home. She was deep in conversation with her teacher at the other end of the table, looking much older than her sixteen years--almost seventeen now, she reminded herself--despite the tousled hair and pajamas that she was still wearing. More than ever, Agrippa felt the gap between her and her daughter's worlds. Exhaling again, she tried not to regret how much of Hermione's childhood she had missed out on, offering herself the bittersweet knowledge that either way she would have gone away for the remainder of her schooling.

*

Hermione looked up from her Transfiguration essay and watched Severus turn the page in his book, smiling as she did so. As if sensing her eyes on him, he jerked up sharply and, noticing her expression, grumbled, "Surely your essay isn't as witty as you make it out to be."

"Oh, but it is," she replied, chewing on the end of her quill thoughtfully.

Both of their heads jerked up as the library door banged open to reveal Remus Lupin, closely followed by Ginny.

"Severus," Lupin said not impolitely, giving a curt nod in his direction. "Hermione."

The look he gave her was slightly less guarded, with a touch of curiosity at what they were doing, locked up in the library alone together.

"Remus."

Lupin looked slightly taken aback at the lack of animosity in Severus's tone and Ginny took the opportunity to slip into the room, glancing between the two men anxiously.

"What now?" she inquired quietly.

"Leave them be," he replied to her, holding the door open on the way out.

She nodded, her jaw tightening determinedly. Once they had left, Severus turned to her, eyebrow raised.

"Don't ask me," she told him.

"I wasn't."

Both of them went back to their previous activities as a companionable silence overtook them and they remained in that position until they were called down for supper hours later.

*

"It's nice that I don't have to barricade my door anymore," Ginny commented wryly as she pulled her blankets around her chin.

From across the room, Hermione laughed softly. "Are you sure he wasn't just kidding around?"

The other girl sat up angrily. "Are you accusing me of--"

"Of course not," Hermione replied comfortingly. "I just wanted to make sure..."

She chewed on her lip momentarily, trying to think of how best to broach the subject that she was dying to ask about.

"So... Have you heard from Draco lately?"

"This morning."

"Oh... well, that's nice," she replied lamely.

"Yes, it is," Ginny replied tartly. "Now, if you don't mind..."

"Why were you in the library today?" Hermione burst in, unable to continue living in suspense.

"How did I know?" the other girl said, rolling her eyes.

"Just humour me."

"If you really want to know, taking precautionary measures." Eyeing Hermione's blank stare, she continued, "Learning to fight."

"Fight? As in..."

"Fist fighting. As in doling out an ass-kicking to anyone who tries anything. Taking care of myself. Now good-night."

Ginny seemed to fall asleep almost instantaneously, but Hermione was another matter. She had never been very close to the redhead, but she could tell when Ginny was upset about something, and right now, she was more than upset. Hermione had been worried about Harry's well-being for a good portion over the fifth year, but during sixth year, loath as she was to admit it, she had managed to forget about him in dealing with her own life. She was beginning to regret that and knew that she would continue to do so, especially if he continued to have his attentions focused on Ginny. The girl was as tough as nails and, though it made her feel somewhat sick, Hermione was beginning to wonder whether or not Ginny was planning some sort of revenge. Because, by the sounds of things, it wouldn't be completely unjustified.

It was a thought that would keep her up most of the night.

*

Ginny eyed Lupin from her position opposite him. She had quickly gotten over her hesitation to hit him once he had sat her down after her first session an asked if she was really serious about learning this--if she wasn't, he understood and wouldn't force her into it. His expression had been so overly concerned that she had nearly punched him then and there.

Once that minor hurdle had been leapt overr, she had progressed at a rate that seemed to surprise her instructor more than slightly. He himself, being no adept at martial arts, could barely keep up with her, despite his considerable advantage of one hundred pounds, and a good deal of time was wasted trying to decipher the meaning of the book which had been so generously donated. ("Thank goodness we weren't up against Madam Pince," Ginny had confided.)

"What if you're attacked from behind?" Lupin asked, straightening from his crouched position. "You have to consider the possibility of being down before you have a chance to react."

The name of Ginny's supposed attacker was never mentioned, but both of them knew who it would be.

"I don't know. We should try it."

Ginny followed him over to the table that was holding the open book, and they huddled over it for another half an hour, before straightening and walking through the instructions.

*

The rest of the summer passed uneventfully. Hermione and Severus spent long periods of time holed up in the library, and when they weren't, there were day trips to Diagon Alley where they would browse bookstores and eat ice cream. Despite the fact that her mother was staying at Grimmauld Place as well, Agrippa and Hermione rarely saw each other outside of meals--Agrippa's workaholic tendencies had, if possible, increased since Christmas.

But aside from the growing rift between her and her mother, this was the happiest Hermione had been for a long time. Sometime in the last month, eating had become less of a chore than before. Going to meals was no longer a conscious thought and the urge to skip them was increasingly rare--not that Mrs. Weasley would have let her. Food aside, Severus made her feel like she was important, like all of this mattered to someone other than her and her current worth wasn't the score of her last test or the effectiveness of a piece of advice she doled out. Not that Harry and Ron--or anyone else for that matter--had ever had the intention of giving her this particular impression, but sometimes it seemed that they did without meaning to.

Severus understood. It was that simple. People had mistreated him in his youth as well, although in his instance it had been slightly more deliberate, and he realized where she was coming from. He knew the right things to say, when to say them, and when to keep quiet and just listen. In turn, Hermione would unburden his load during his melancholy periods, and in this way, they fed one another's appetites and cleaned off what the other couldn't swallow.

Of course, there was plenty of laughing. For the most part, it was a summer of laughter. Random giggling, the amused looks of two people sharing a private joke from across the room when other people in the vicinity prevented them from any other reaction, and the kind that leaves you lying on the floor, breathless and gasping, yet still unable to stop. Sometimes the other didn't know what had warranted it, but they would join in anyway until their sides split.

It was also a summer of love, although neither of them was quite ready to put a name to their feelings. All either of them knew was that they had woven themselves into a safe cocoon that they weren't prepared to burst out of yet. The world was hovering just outside, waiting for their walls to disintegrate and both of them knew that time wasn't going to slow down for them, but they were going to hang on as long as they possibly could. Two more weeks of August didn't seem nearly long enough, but they were going to make them as full and perfect as possible.

Of course, fate had different plans.

*

Hermione rested her head on the back of the couch, sick with worry, staring out the window of the library at the setting sun and praying to any higher power that was listening. In the last month, both Hermione and Severus had been too preoccupied to remember the full moon. The reminder had been almost more unpleasant than the constant thought of it. She closed her eyes against the thoughts streaming into her mind as the sky continued to darken.

*

Upstairs, Ginny and Lupin were running through a cool-down, moving more slowly than usual, when his body convulsed. He stopped in the middle of a block, and Ginny stepped forward, wondering what was wrong. She inhaled sharply as she saw his body distort and reshape and away, at the moonlight streaming in the attic window from the full moon above.

"Run," he hissed with half-human jaws that were lengthening at an alarming rate.

She tried, only to find that her feet had taken root, wanted to scream, but her mouth was clenched shut. Her only act of defense was to shake her head slowly, as if refusing to believe what was before her, and squeeze her eyes shut, letting the blood pounding through her drown out his anguished noises. When she opened them, she wanted to be waking up from a dream, but instead she saw that the transformation was complete.

Her muscles regained their ability and she turned, fumbling at the door, trying to keep her movements slow and casual to deter the attack that she knew would come, glancing back to see the beast advancing on her slowly. Desperately, she clawed at the door, but her grasp was too sweaty. He was drawing nearer by the second--she could hear the clicking of toenails on the wooden floor and the low growl being emitted from between its gleaming teeth.

She couldn't help herself. She panicked and began pounding against the door, ramming her full weight against it and screaming for help. The door finally opened and she collapsed, tumbling down the flight of stairs as something knocked against her with a numbing force, earth-shattering force. The last thing she saw before passing out was the werewolf crawl to its feet and sprint down the hall to the rest of the house.

*

Shrieks and pounding upstairs shook Hermione from her half awake state, and she jumped to her feet, heart pounding as possibilities flooded her mind.

It's Harry, she thought with frightening certainty. He's lost his mind. He finally cracked and went after her. It was that letter from Draco this morning that did it.

As she rounded the corner, hearing someone bellow, "Stupefy!" she was expecting to see her longtime friend crumpled on the ground. Instead the sight of a half asleep Tonks brandishing a wand at a frozen wolf-like creature greeted her. Hermione was dimly aware of other people arriving at various times, exclaiming the same thing over and over again.

"But he took the potion this morning! I was there."

"How on earth...?"

"What's going on?"

It was Harry that saw the trail of blood first. Hermione felt her head spin as she took stock of the people around her.

"Ginny," she whispered, then when no one heard her, she repeated, more loudly, "He got Ginny!"

A wash of silence overcame them and everyone turned to look at Molly Weasley, who had gone ashen. Her horror lasted only a moment, though. A second later, she was in control once again, directing her husband and various orders as she levitated her daughter into the master bedroom. Lupin was moved back to the attic by Tonks and Arthur, while Ron sent for Madam Pomfrey. She arrived within ten minutes and all that was left for the rest of them to do was wait for the worst.

They were assured about an hour and a half later that Ginny was in no immediate danger. The wound had not been as deep as it had first appeared and Madam Pomfrey had been able to heal it without difficulty. Her landing had given her a mild concussion, but that would take time and she was now sleeping. It would, however, be impossible to tell whether she had been infected by the bite--she had not yet transformed, but that meant nothing. Changing, Madam Pomfrey informed them, did not necessarily happen immediately after the bite. It did on occasion, but there was a sixty-seven percent chance that it would occur on the next full moon, and in extremely rare cases the effects didn't show up for years. In any case, Ginny would have to remain under observation for the time being.

The tests that the nurse went on to describe sounded remarkably like those used for muggle pregnancy to Hermione's ears, and she turned to whisper this to Severus, only to remember with a jolt that he wasn't there. The longer she sat, allowing that night's events to catch up with her, the sicker she felt, until her stomach began to roll. She began to wonder if the urge to vomit was indeed nerves, or something else; the "b" word that she could never use, even inside her head, without feeling a stab of fear. The sitting room was quickly becoming too small, as her breathing grew more and more irregular.

Severus returned at dawn, by which time Hermione had worked herself into such a state of panic that she was positive a heart attack wasn't far off. Seeing this and the slumped, barely awake faces of the rest of the house staring at the landing at the top of the stairs, he half-carried her to the kitchen, where he made her a cup of tea, and attempted to draw the story out of her.

Instead, what he got was the ramblings of a frightened, sleep-deprived, seventeen-year-old girl who had thought on the subject for far too long.

"There was screaming and I ran upstairs and he was there, stupefied and there was blood, but no one but me realized it was her who was missing and he got her and they took her and she came, but we still don't know if she's been infected by the bite or not and I wanted to but I didn't, I swear. I didn't let myself, but I wanted too..."

Hermione broke off into sobs, and despite--or perhaps because of--the fact that he was beyond exhausted from his own, not so different night, he held her and tried to stay calm.

"Who got who?"

"Lupin... He attacked Ginny," she replied, trying to control her tears. "He took the potion, but it didn't work..."

Severus closed his eyes and exhaled. "His body has adjusted to it. It's lost its effect over him. I've been wondering when it would happen. And what did you want to do?"

She began to shake. "I was going to be sick again, after we found them. I was afraid that it was coming back."

He shook his head tiredly. "Did you even consider that it might be because you saw the victim of a werewolf? You're allowed to feel sick you know. It happens to us all."

She sighed into his shoulder. "I'm sorry... Now I feel like an idiot."

He laughed softly. "That happens too."