Laboring Under the Delusion

“You say you’ve tried pixie wings?” Professor Acadia Kersum pressed. Snape nodded tersely.

“I have provided you with a list of my attempts,” he reminded the professor curtly. Asking for help had been a pleasant enough idea while sweating over a cauldron, but in the cool of his office, across from this maddening woman--well, it was seeming like less of a good idea.

“Yes, yes, I looked at it already. I just can’t understand why pixie wings wouldn’t work… have you tried--?”

“Phoenix tears; yes I have.”

The woman sitting across from Snape stumbled a little--how had he known what she was going to ask? She was thoroughly unnerved by this man--his reputation had quite preceded him. He was rumored to be nasty, ill-tempered, sarcastic, unfeeling, and rude--but absolutely brilliant at magic. So far, he seemed to live up to his reputation. Since her arrival the day before, he had treated her as contemptuously as possible. She had never received such open hostility, and was shocked when another professor remarked that Professor Snape must have taken a liking to her, for he was being as hospitable as they had seen.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I realize my questions are tiring,” she supplied as the man continued his weary gaze at her. He seemed to awaken from his own thoughts.

“Nonsense. I am simply frustrated. Perhaps if we were to research independently and discuss our findings at a later time…” he suggested. Acadia smiled.

“Absolutely,” she enthused, although she felt a little disappointment in hearing he wanted to work alone. She was excited to see him actually in work--she had heard so much about his skill. Durmstrang students returning from the Tri-Wizard had spoken disdainfully of this greasy professor, but Acadia was finding herself rather… attracted to him.

Snape rolled his eyes inwardly. This woman was far too excitable, in his opinion. She had hit the nail precisely on the head--her questions were tiring. Inconveniently, her entire manner reminded him of Hermione Granger. This led to an even greater sense of urgency--it was now mid-August of the ninth year, and no one knew where the dratted Granger was. Approaching the time of her potential endangerment, it would have eased his mind greatly to know that as he was working tirelessly, she was at least being cautious. Did she even remember the prophecy? He supposed she was not quite foolish enough to attempt to erase her knowledge of the magical world from her mind. She probably could have easily brewed a memory potion, or even cast a charm on herself.

The appeal of that would be great, Snape realized. To forget years of struggle and pain--to forget the death of a friend. But you would also forget a great deal of power and convenience--Snape could not imagine a life without magic. He broke from his thoughts as Professor Kersum shifted in her chair. A lock of dark hair fell from her bun and framed her face, and any man other than Snape would have been distracted by this. He’d certainly noted her attractiveness immediately--but as she continued to blather on, he had found it diminishing. She was relatively young, and had only been teaching for a year. Undeniably, she knew potions. She had obviously studied quite hard, as she had not proven to be similarly adept in all areas of magic. She was reportedly too headstrong for divination, and too restless for history. He had found this through his background search--he had wanted only the best, and had been told ten times over that she was it. She had an unmatched understanding of various potions ingredients. Her mind was like a catalogue of every potion ever brewed.

“Well, perhaps we ought to get on, then?” he suggested. Acadia started; she had been staring at his hands absently.

“Oh, yes. I’ll just need to go down to the library. I haven’t seen what you all have here,” she added. Snape’s lips twitched in amusement at her American accent. Her eyes seemed to catch on his lips, and her own formed a rather pleasant smile. Snape stood up abruptly, which broke her gaze and his discomfort with the sudden silence in the room. “I shall see you later, then,” he said, stressing the finality of these words. ‘In other words, get the bloody hell out of my office,’ he added mentally.

She smiled--she was, perhaps, a bit toothy. But nonetheless attractive. “Later,” she said, walking out of the door he had opened for her--don’t think about why you did that, he instructed himself. Go do your research.

Acadia walked away slowly, hoping his eyes were on her. Everything was just going splendidly.

-----

“Everything is going splendidly,” Hermione muttered as she sliced her steak. She was now in Rio de Janeiro, and it turned out to be a pretty nice place. She settled down with her date--a very nice man who didn’t speak English--and ate the biggest, juiciest steak on the menu. Rio is really lovely, she thought. And this gentleman was very attractive… granted, she couldn’t understand most of what he said. She had picked up a fair amount of Spanish, but she just didn’t have a knack for languages. She found herself mentally equating everything she encountered with Latin, the language of magic.

Even in the middle of a Muggle restaurant, surrounded by people who had not the slightest idea that there was an entirely different world hidden within the fabric of their everyday lives--even now, she felt a connection with the world in which she belonged. She could almost hear the voices of her friends in her head daily, wondering where she was. She was still dreaming about Snape with frightening regularity--Snape working on that damned potion. The potion of her downfall. She hadn’t forgotten--no matter how she wanted to.

She pushed herself to forget. She had learned Occlumency, damn it all, why couldn’t she clear her mind? She’d never been able to truly shut out emotion. She was a passionate person, sometimes dangerously--not as bad as Harry, she reflected. But she was nowhere near as controlled as--

Snape. Damn it. Get out of my thoughts.

She turned her attention to her date, who was very obviously checking out a woman who had just walked in. Hermione felt her jaw drop a little--this woman--she couldn’t be, but she looked like a veela. Her silver hair caught the attention of most men in the room, to say nothing of her body.

Hermione scoffed a little. Simple minded fools. They’d never seen an angry veela. With a wave of nostalgia she remembered the Quidditch Cup and Harry and Ron’s reaction to the veela dancers. Her heart cried for a moment with the pure joy they had all shared that day--and the utter terror that night. She tried to remind herself that was precisely the reason she left them all behind--too much danger, too many memories of things she could never have again.

Reason utterly dropped out of the picture, as did everything else, when Hermione took notice of the man accompanying the veela.

He was dark--eyes, hair, clothes. His skin was faintly tan, a clear sign he’d only recently taken up the outdoors. Hermione wasn’t completely transfixed until he glanced in her direction and smiled. An unassuming, kind, beautiful smile. A stop the world dead in its tracks smile, like he had just heard the most insanely good news of his life and wanted to share it with everyone. Hermione felt five seconds of the most incredible, complete warmth and security that she had ever felt.

Then she realized this was him. The dark lord who would have her destroy the world and herself.

Oh, no. That really makes thing difficult, she thought grimly.

-

She tossed and turned that night. She was in a great hotel, a suite. The rooms were amazing, there was even a kitchen and a fireplace. And a wonderful bed. She was full of steak and still feeling a pleasant warmth from the sight of that man. But she couldn’t sleep, mostly due to the images of Dumbledore and Snape floating around in her head. She decided she would go back to her student days and recite some spells, something she could focus on--something she knew.

She could see something swimming in her mind, and fought it. She didn’t want another dream of Snape… she didn’t need to know any more… she’d already seen him becoming infatuated with his new assistant--even in dreams, Hermione didn’t like the look of that woman one bit. She was constantly asking questions, never leaving Snape alone, trying to seduce him. The horrible part was that it seemed to be working. Don’t fall asleep, Hermione….

Snape stood in front of a mirror. He appeared to be looking into it, but he was in fact trying to do anything but that. He’d never been one for the silly fussing about over appearances. But Acadia was going to dine with him in the Great Hall.

“Oh, honestly,” he whispered. “You’re not a child.”

He was interrupted by the banging open of the door. He turned, startled, and saw Dumbledore rushing into his office. He quickly tossed his head to hide the fact that he’d combed his hair meticulously.

“We have a serious problem, Severus.” Dumbledore said dramatically.

“Well, what is it?”

“Hermione has seen him. The man. He was in a Muggle restaurant with a veela--”

“Where, precisely?”

“Brazil. But the problem is not simply that she’s seen him. It appears to be working according to the prophecy--she was absolutely infatuated with him on sight. Even more dangerously, I believe he recognized her--knew her for a witch. Perhaps he was taken with her--”

“When he had a veela with him? Hardly.”

Hermione sat up straight in bed, her nostrils flaring. Well, if Snape felt that way about her--

Calm down. It was a dream. A very, very real dream. “I don’t want any more realizations tonight, brain. Stop it.”

But it wouldn’t go away. She was seeing this because it was happening--like Harry and Voldemort. All her dreams about Snape lately could be real--what was it? Why? Snape wasn’t possessing her, obviously. But there was some kind of link between them, it seemed. “Damn,” she whispered to herself. She could feel tears stinging her cheeks. She didn’t want to go back, she didn’t want to face this--

“I’m afraid, Miss Granger, that what you want matters little right now.”

Hermione shrieked as she saw Professor Snape unfolding himself from her suite’s fireplace. She looked at herself, embarrassed to be seen in her nightclothes. She hastily pulled a blanket around her, at which Snape scoffed. “No need for propriety, when we’ve been sharing thoughts for the last nine years.”

“What?”

“I didn’t realize it, either. Until the little visit from Dumbledore you just witnessed. He informed me that he marked you--”

“He didn’t ” Hermione said indignantly. She’d read about marking--it was an aura spell, which would ensure that anyone of magical blood would be able to recognize her as the same.

“He did. So he could track you, I’m assuming. And he also cast a distress spell…”

“I can’t believe him,” she huffed.

“so that your designated safety could find you, if

you needed help.”

“And he made the safety you?”

“Hardly understandable, but true.”

“Snape, I have to tell you--that woman, the woman you’re with--she’s not right. Something about her isn’t right, please listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me, Miss Granger. Stay away from this man. It doesn’t matter how attractive he is, how funny, how kind, how everything you’ve always wanted--stay… away… from… him. I don’t have an antidote ”

For some reason, Snape was fading… he was flickering. “I don’t have an antidote ” ringing in the air.

Hermione awoke with a start.

-----

Snape awoke with a start. That was the first dream where they’d both been in the same room… what was all this business about a distress link? Surely that wasn’t true…

“I’m afraid, Severus, that it is true.” Dumbledore stood in Snape’s doorway, looking very grave. “I had to provide this knowledge in a dream because--well, I couldn’t provide it face to face. You wouldn’t have believed me until you saw the link--and now you have seen it. You and Miss Granger have been seeing each other’s activities, cropped and condensed for informational purposes, in your dreams. You know where she is right now. If you desired, you could go to her. She could come to you. This will always be.”

“Why did you pick me?”

“Ah, Severus. Because you never would have suspected.” a shadow of a smile crossed Dumbledore’s lips. Snape felt himself smiling back, even as he was nagged with the sense of something being just… wrong.

“Should I go to her, then?”

“No. You must focus your attentions on the antidote. Allow Acadia a larger role in aiding you. I will keep an eye on both Miss Granger and this fellow--”

“For whom we don’t have a name, I take it?”

“No. As a matter of fact, I know nothing about him. I only know he is the one because of the way Miss Granger felt when she saw him.”

Snape took a moment to collect his thoughts. In the space of an hour, he had learned that Hermione was magically bound to him, that the threat of her destruction was looming ever nearer, and that he had no choice but to find the antidote and quickly. He had also learned the strength of Miss Granger’s feelings--and found that if he concentrated, he could feel these things for himself.

“I can feel what she feels, and she can feel what I feel?”

“Precisely. It isn’t so different from the natural bond a mother feels for her children… or even a father, come to that.”

“So I’m to feel paternal towards her?”

“Perhaps. It manifests differently for every case. The important thing is to focus on the details--there could be something in her mind which can help you make an antidote.”

“I’ve got it,” Snape said suddenly, jumping out of his bed. Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. “You just handed me the final puzzle piece, Minister.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’ll let you get to work, then. I’ll come back to check on you,” he added. He walked quickly away. For a moment, the most intense rage boiled within Snape’s veins that he wanted to chase after Dumbledore. He wanted to hurt him--to make him pay for what he’d done…

“Even if I don’t know what that is,” Snape whispered to himself. He quickly shut down his mind, clamping off his emotions as if they were doors he could simply slam closed. He needed to be able to work, and interfering emotions from Hermione Granger would not make that an easy task.

He made his way quickly to Acadia’s sleeping chamber. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like if this were a social call. Would she deign to spend time with him if they weren’t working? He rapped on her door efficiently and dispelled all romantic notions his inner self had been forming. Like it or not, this was busness only.

He heard a few moments’ rustling before the door pulled open slightly to reveal Acadia, her long wavy hair down, wearing an interesting choice for bed wear… she looked as if she would be quite chilly.

“Professor Snape ” she breathed, shutting the door firmly in his face. It opened again a moment later, but she was rather more covered now. Trying to hide his disappointment at this turn of events, Snape leaned in.

“I have a new development. If you’d be so kind as to meet me whenever you are prepared… I will need your help.”

A smile came over her face. “Of course, of course. I won’t be long, just allow me to… um, dress,” she said with a bit of an embarrassed grin.

“Of course. Sorry to have… disturbed you in your sleep.”

She blinked a few times… was he blushing? “No problem,” she responded.

Snape gave a slight bow and retreated, mentally berating himself for getting off track. He had to focus on the antidote, not some half-cocked idea of romance that some long-dormant part of him was forcing to the surface. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling this way--he’d worked with more attractive women than Acadia. Less maddening women, to be sure. Women more to his tastes…and he’d never jeopardized professionalism because of his emotions. He wondered if having a link to Miss Granger meant he was channeling her predisposition for histrionics.

-----

Hermione sneered at the hotel manager as he proceeded to bob around her, pointing out various features of the suite. She caught her reflection in the mirror--sneering doesn’t do it for me, she thought. Since when do I sneer?

She had been unable to get Snape out of her head--that dream… it was so real. It couldn’t be true, though, could it? Could her and Snape really be reading each other’s thoughts? She hoped not, as she reflected on the hundreds of men she’d appraised over the last nine years. He probably wouldn’t enjoy that little montage, she thought, and stopped thinking it immediately.

She was being treated like a queen, and she had no idea why. Sure, she had flashed quite a bit of cash at the manager, but she wasn’t a celebrity or anything. She had to wonder, yet again, if Dumbledore had her under surveillance. Especially now that she had spotted Him, as she begun to think of the man from the restaurant. She couldn’t fight the desire to see him again--she knew what trouble he would cause… she knew it, and she still couldn’t suppress the grin that came to her lips when she imagined his face.

Snape’s warning resounded in her head… what did he mean, he didn’t have an antidote? He’d had nine years, for Merlin’s sake What had been doing, besides falling in love with that wretched woman?

She gritted her teeth at the thought of that little chit. She’d peppered Hermione’s dreams for a week, since Snape had apparently had some big revelation about the antidote. What that was, Hermione never got to know. He’d apparently shut her out. The only thing filtering through was images of this Acadia woman.

“I’d like to be alone, please,” she snarled at the manager, who was enthusiastically demonstrating the open/close function of the vents. He looked crestfallen, but it seemed to bounce off Hermione. Great, she thought, I’m channeling Snape’s predilection for cruelty.