Propensity and the Chaotic Pendulum

The rising sun bathed Snape’s room in pale blue light. He had fallen into a deep sleep, and his eyes barely fluttered in the light. The room became gradually brighter, revealing the whole of Snape’s black-clad form, sprawled quite comfortably on his bed. The sunlight also revealed one Hermione Granger, standing in the doorway, glaring at the figure on the bed. Her hair was still rather wild, knotted and hanging in clumps. She hadn’t taken the time to comb it. She was still wearing her mom’s dressing gown and had hastily shoved her feet into a pair of boots her dad wore rappelling.

She looked positively murderous.

Her eyes burned on Snape, who apparently could not feel her heated glare in his dream world. How dare he sleep peacefully. How dare he look so innocent as he slept. How dare he, after the things he had done, the nothings he had whispered…the totally unacceptable way he’d made her feel. She let out a sound very close to a growl and suddenly raced for the bed.

Snape had been surprised to fall into such a restful sleep, but not as surprised as he was when suddenly wrenched from it by a flying girl who landed quite heavily upon his chest. He instinctively grabbed the figure and threw her, perhaps a little too forcefully, onto the floor. She would have none of it and came at him again. His eyes widened with recognition as she drew her wand and pointed it, jabbed it rather, into his throat.

“Miss Granger,” he choked out.

“Don’t! Don’t say my name. You deserve to die, you know that.” He didn’t refute this, merely stared up at her with a mixture of sorrow and something akin to desire. She was torn between wanting to kill him, and wanting to lay down beside him and sob into his chest. She voted for the first feeling, and whispered a curse. He immediately began to convulse, vomit bubbling rather unpleasantly from his mouth, choking him. She watched with pleasure as he began to turn blue, violently clawing at the sheets and her robes. “What’s the matter, dear? Can’t you accept your much deserved punishment?” Even as she uttered the words she was horrified. She was not acting at all like Hermione Granger acts. She placed her wand back on Snape and muttered a counter curse. He stopped convulsing. She brought over a wastebasket from a corner of the room and turned her back while he spat out the remaining vomit and wiped himself clean.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw--whether from the curse or emotion, she couldn’t tell. She rounded on him, eyes flashing.

“Sorry?” she seethed. “SORRY?”

“Hardly sufficient, I know.”

“I don’t know what would be sufficient. Is there anything that can make up for what you’ve done to me?”

“That’s strange, I was going to ask you that very same question.”

Hermione fell silent as she saw tears gathering in Snape’s eyes. She had to blink and focus again--surely he wasn’t crying. The Snape she knew didn’t cry. Of course, the Snape she knew didn’t rape women in closets, either.

“Why did you do it--I mean, did you want to hurt me? Did you just get carried away, or were you really out to… to hurt me?” she choked on her last words, furiously brushing tears away. She hated admitted that he had hurt her, she supposed she was just as weak as he. But he had hurt her--not only with his force, but with the violent words of love he had whispered to her. He was certainly an unconventional rapist, she thought with a wry smile. He had whispered of how long he had waited to feel her, to look into her eyes--he was driven mad with how badly he wanted her.

She didn’t know at all whether to believe him. She wanted to, so desperately. What person doesn’t want to believe that there is someone who loves them so much, they would rather have them screaming for mercy beneath them, than not have them at all.

Or maybe it was just Hermione’s desperate need to be loved, at any cost. She glared down upon Snape, who trembled slightly under her gaze. She felt suddenly like throwing her arms around him and demanding that he love her. Demanding that he say he didn’t want to hurt her--that all he wanted was to love her, and maybe that would be okay. Maybe then she could tell him that yes, he had hurt her. But more than that, he had awoken something within her…something which she was quite sure ordinary women didn’t have. There was something about his force which was…gentle. Soothing. Arousing. “When did I become this?” she whispered.

Something in her face had changed, Snape saw instantly. There was a slackening of her jaw, a dulling of the eyes. He reached up without thinking and stroked her cheek. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, almost forcefully. He stood up and slowly drew her closer, finding her compliant and soft in his arms.

---

Albus Dumbledore looked upon the scene with disbelief. Last night, Hermione had been extolling the virtues of homicide, and today she was finding solace in the very arms of her attacker? He wouldn’t pretend to know the relationship that Severus and Hermione shared, but he had certainly not expected this. He cleared his throat loudly and they jerked apart, looking guilty.

“Sir!” Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks reddening. She respected him deeply, despite all the anger burning within her for his vicious plans--after all, would she have ever been in Malfoy Manor if it were not for Dumbledore’s suggestions?

“Miss Granger. Please go wait for me outside,” Dumbledore ordered softly. She immediately left, pulling the door shut behind her with a quick bow to Dumbledore, whose eyes were not on her at all.

“Headmaster, I don’t know what to say. She came here to find me, I had no knowledge--”

“You had no knowledge? No idea at all, with all your wisdom, that she is in love with you?”

Snape nearly choked. “In love with me? The impertinent chit tried to murder me!”

“I daresay I can hardly blame her. I have a mind to do the task myself.”

Snape stood stock still for several beats, unsure of how to respond. He had two clear options: a homicidal old friend, or a homicidal beautiful woman. ‘I’m a simple man,’ he thought as the choice became quite clear.

“I’m afraid I’m taking my leave of you now,” Snape said simply. He walked around the shocked older man, who made a move to grab Snape‘s arm. Hermione burst into the room suddenly. “Stupefy!” she shouted at Dumbledore. Caught quite unaware, he toppled to the ground, stiff and unblinking. She let out a little groan at the sight. “I’m so sorry, Professor!” she whispered as Snape grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the flat.

========

“We probably ought to talk,” Hermione said when they‘d gotten safely away from Snape’s flat and the stunned Dumbledore.

“I need my wand back,” Snape mused.

“You need your wand to talk?” Hermione said bitingly.

“Watch your tone when addressing me, Miss Granger.” Snape snapped. He followed that with a murmured, “please,” realizing that he was only alive because she had been kind enough not to kill him.

But, was it kindness? Or was it something slightly more sinister… Her eyes were constantly changing, at one second harsh and fiery, at the next warm and needing. He had no way of knowing what was happening inside her head.

“No, I don’t need my wand to talk. But it would be entirely easier if I were to create a private place for us to talk.”

“Do you suppose they’ll be looking for us?”

“Use your head, Miss Granger. We’ve just attacked one of the most powerful wizards in existence. I fled from a head Death Eater’s home, with his son’s wife, whom I violated.”

“So the deck is pretty stacked against us,” she sighed, slumping against a wall.

“Which is precisely why we need to hide, to sort things out amongst ourselves. We’d better come back with a damn good story for everyone.”

“Perhaps a few things need to be explained, then,” Hermione said, almost timidly. She had seen the wrath of Severus Snape, and although it was alluring, it was also dangerous. Even when he was unarmed.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Although I do want a few explanations of my own.”

/////

Hermione and Snape settled into an ordinary Muggle restaurant, after Hermione had stopped off to purchase clothes other than her mother’s dressing gown. Snape had freshened up in a public restroom, rinsing the last traces of Hermione’s spell from his face.

“This is a rather nice place,” Hermione commented idly, picking at her menu.

“If by nice, you mean cheap and overcrowded, then I quite agree.”

“It’s perfect for our purposes. I have little Muggle money left, and I doubt you have any.” To which Snape responded by pulling a wallet from the folds of his coat, exposing a large amount of cash. Hermione gaped.

“Honestly, girl, aren’t you supposed to be the cleverest witch around?” Snape smirked. “Of course the Order is going to have me well-prepared for whatever circumstances may befall me.”

“Of course. The Order… always so prepared,” she murmured, a bit angrily.

“Do you have a grievance with the order, Miss Granger?”

“I was forced to marry Draco Malfoy. Of course I have a grievance with the order.”

Snape’s upper lip twitched with the pleasurable knowledge that Hermione had indeed not enjoyed her liaison with the young Mr. Malfoy. “Speaking of that,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“--How exactly did it come to pass that I got involved with Draco?” Hermione finished for him, looking a bit smug and also a bit irritated. “Certainly, let us relive that terrible experience.”

“If it’s painful for you, of course you needn’t--”

“Oh, sod it. Of course I’m going to tell you, painful or not. Why else would we would be here?”

“I assumed you wanted to hear why I--well. You know,” he finished, awkwardly.

“Yes. Well, I think understanding everything is important. You know, I am Hermione Granger--the infamous bookworm.” They exchanged a slight smile, broken by the approach of a waiter to take orders. Snape coolly ordered for himself and Hermione, eliciting a huff of annoyance from her. “Thank you for ordering for me, father.”

Snape raised his eyes to her in surprise as the waiter retreated. “I’m sorry, I merely assumed-”

“That I was incapable of deciding which food I would like to put into my mouth to feed my hunger?”

Snape cast his eyes down again. “I never encountered this problem with any other dates.”

Hermione was torn between amusement that Snape had actually gone on dates and anger that he thought of her as his date. She was his attempted murderer, not his friendly companion! ‘Oh, Hermione…you know you’d give anything to be here on an ordinary date with him.’ she scolded herself. She managed to recover enough to smile winningly. “Well, maybe your other dates were just too afraid to speak up. I don’t know many women who enjoy having controlling prats as dates!” She said this with all the forced charm she could muster.

Snape was at a loss for words. Certainly not a problem he encountered often, he reflected. Snape was always ready with a biting comment. All at once the whole unlikelihood of his current position hit him, and he began laughing. Hermione looked at him, shocked, her water glass halfway to her mouth. “What precisely is so funny?” she hissed.

“I believe some days there is no sense in the world,” he laughed some more. She glared at him.

“Explain what you’re laughing about, you foolish man. Everyone is looking at us!”

He tried to contain his laughter, and immediately Hermione wished she had kept her mouth shut. She rather enjoyed the sound of his laughter--she’d never heard it before. After he’d settled down, he took a large gulp of his water and a deep breath. “Where were we?” he asked smoothly, as if she were the one who had distracted them.

“I was going to explain about Malfoy,” Hermione reminded him begrudgingly. She knew it was important to elucidate everything that had happened; particularly when it was all so jumbled. But she was not at all looking forward to it. She took a deep breath and began her story.

////

It had been the sixth day since Harry’s disappearance, and all in the Order were sick with worry. Hermione had been working as a research analyst for a private company, using the vast knowledge she possessed to settle all manner of affairs within the company. It was also a prime position--information was her business, and the Order needed nothing more than information.

Everyone had been shocked when Hermione and Ron turned down jobs as Aurors--but even more shocked when Harry had done the same. Ron wasn’t cut out for it, he admitted. He wasn’t quite quick-thinking enough. Hermione was deadly smart, but not particularly good on her feet. And Harry--well, he’d seen enough, he explained. They all stayed in contact, but led their own lives, shrouded in secrecy.

When Harry turned up missing, Hermione exhausted herself with the search. She couldn’t openly track him, but her many contacts left her with a tome of notes and only one solid clue--Malfoy. Harry had last been seen in the company of Draco, though for what reason, no one knew.

Hermione was reluctant to do it, but she knew her only option was to contact Draco. He’d never become fully entangled in the Death Eater inner circle, a point that he was quite sensitive about. Apparently they believed he was too soft--a laughable thought to Hermione, who had known few wizards who were crueler. She had a slight advantage, though. Draco Malfoy owed her a favor. She had saved his skin from Voldemort once--it had been simple enough to do. Draco just wasn’t very good at keeping his grace under fire. She remembered with a degree of humor how he had tracked her down, begging her to research an old wizarding family. He was supposed to be keeping tabs on them but had turned out to be lying down on the job. He would have been severely punished if she hadn’t helped him--although she still couldn’t explain to herself why she had. The best she could come up with was that she still had some desire to prove herself to everyone, although most people would say she’d fairly well done that.

To find Harry, she knew she would have to cash in her favor. She put a Disillusionment charm on herself and lurked outside the Ministry, where Draco was now working. Yet another mystery Hermione didn’t have the patience to solve. He had walked out 10 minutes before everyone else, prompting Hermione to snort a ‘figures’ before she could stop herself.

“Well, Granger. Fancy, erm--hearing you here,” he drawled. She wanted to place her nearly invisible hands around his throat and choke, but refrained. She needed him badly right now, and had to watch her step. Harry was at risk, she reminded herself.

“Pleasant afternoon, isn’t it, Draco?”

“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”

Hermione had to bite her lip to restrain the torrent of insults bursting to get out. “I think it’s time I cash in a certain favor that you owe me,” she’d said, her tone measured. She was ready with her wand in case he tried to run. Just let that little jerk try to short change me! She thought angrily. Every muscle in her body was itching to attack the little shit.

////

“Well, well,” Snape interjected airily. “When did Miss Granger become quite so violent?”

“Shut it, you. I’m talking.” she said with a hint of humor. He smirked and made a gesture for her to go on.

////

Draco had ushered the practically unseen Hermione to a secluded corner of a secluded shop in Hogsmeade. “Wouldn’t want to be spotted talking to myself, now would I?” he said by way of explanation. Hermione gave a derisive snort but kept her temper in check. “Now, what do you want, Granger?”

“I need a place to stay,” she supplied immediately, having given this plenty of thought beforehand. Draco’s eyebrows leapt up at the request.

“Surely you don’t mean my manor?” he scoffed. Hermione nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see her.

“Yes, actually. I need to be someplace safe, you see? And I’m sure there’s not a place more competently guarded than Malfoy Manor,” she purred. Draco Malfoy was not above being manipulated with an ego stroke. He positively preened next to her, and she gave silent thanks that he could not see her face at that moment. He would have killed her on the spot.

“Why exactly do you need to be safe?” Draco asked, clearly out of formality and not a genuine desire to know.

“Well, to be honest…”

“Honest. Heh.”

“To be HONEST,” she forced, “I’ve fled from--well, the others. Dumbledore,” she rushed, kicking herself because she’d almost said “the Order.”

“Have you really?” Draco said, a hint of interest creeping into his voice.

“Yes. And I’ve been… well, considering… my options.”

“You mean you wish to join our side?” Fully interested now, Draco rounded on her.

“Well… I’m not entirely sure, but. I get so sick of doing everything good. The only problem, is… well, obviously. I’m a Mudblood.” She spat, the word even feeling disgusting in her mouth. She gave a shudder and tried to convince herself she would be forgiven for these horrible lies. She chose to ignore the tiny inner voice that said, maybe it isn’t all lies.

“Well, yes. There’s that little matter. But the Dark Lord himself is not pureblood. We can’t all be perfect,” Draco smarmed. Hermione clenched her fist, biting her fingernails into her palm. This is for the Order, she told herself.

“Yes. And I’d be willing--” here she had to swallow hard, “to do whatever I needed to… to make up for… my heritage, you know.”

“I’ll have to speak to my father.”

“No!” Hermione cried before she could stop herself. It would be easy enough to hoodwink Draco--just continue complimenting him, he‘d eat it up. But Lucius was a harder nut to crack, and she was not at all up to the job. “I mean… I just need to be there for a few days. And given what I know of your father, I don’t think he’ll be overly pleased if you bring home a Mudblood,” she shuddered again. Draco appeared to think this over and apparently agreed.

“Secrecy it is.”

Looking back on, Hermione couldn’t quite explain why Draco had agreed. It wasn’t as if honor and truth were high on his list of personal priorities. He could have easily denied any knowlegde of the favor, refused to help her--screwed her, basically. But he chose not to.

/\////

“There seem to be a lot of things about this tale I don‘t understand,” Hermione reflected.

Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable before switching the subject back to the happenings. "And then Voldemort bungled the whole thing by calling for his Death Eaters," he pressed, noticing that her eyes were suddenly deadened. She gave a slight shudder.

"I was alone there… in Malfoy Manor. Precisely what my plan called for, as I was able to search the manor uninterrupted. It just wasn't, shall we say, a pleasant experience."

"A Mudblood in the Darkest pureblood's house. I imagine even the walls hurled abuse at you." He leaned forward and gently touched Hermione's forearm. "But we both know the only trash here is Malfoy."

"I'd just rather not---let's go on."

/////

When Draco and his father returned, Draco's entire manner towards Hermione changed. Before, she was something of a necessary annoyance, but he had long since ceased to care what she did or didn't do. The only time she came in handy was when he needed to get out of a tight spot, and she happened to be the only one capable of helping him. She had realized during their school years that his constant antagonism of her had little to do with her. It was mainly about appearances, and as an added bonus--it annoyed Harry.

But this symbiotic relationship changed in the wake of the latest Death Eater gathering. Draco now regarded Hermione with a kind of sick curiosity--as if she were a wonderful new opportunity. Which, she soon learned, was exactly what she was. Hermione was laying in the secluded room where Draco had stuck her. She'd placed countless wards on the door, but no one had ever accused Draco of being unskilled with a wand. He penetrated her defenses with little effort and she found herself being dragged through the manor. She managed to escape his physical grip but she had nowhere to run. She had been forced to beg him to let her go.

"Let you go, Granger? I'm not completely daft. They think I'm not strong enough to fight for Him. I need to prove myself here, and I think you'll do quite nicely."

"Draco! I know you aren't daft… but listen, there must be a better way to do this. You need to prove yourself to them, I understand. And I agree--I'd be a great way to do that. But if you take me to your father right now, he's bound to ask how you got me."

A look of comprehension replaced some of the rage on Draco's pointed face. "I'd have to admit that you've stayed here," he realized.

"Yes, and I don't imagine your father would be pleased about that."

"So what do you propose I do, Granger? Let you run away?"

"Let me run away, yes. But catch me. I promise you, I won't hide. Give it a few days, and then find me. I swear on my honor that I won't make it hard to find me."

"Your honor, Granger?"

"Yes. This will work, it really will," Hermione gushed, completely confused. She had no idea what she was saying. It was as though someone else were planting these ideas in her head.

"I don't get it, Granger. What's in this for you?"

"A chance to prove that I'm not on Dumbledore's side anymore… a shot at a different life."

Draco looked unconvinced, but quickly saw he had no real choice. "I better be able to find you, Mudblood," he hissed as he escorted her, once again Disillusioned, out of the manor. She didn't reply, but ran as fast as she could. She had to see Dumbledore, right away.

//////

"And don't bother telling me it was stupid to ever promise such a thing to Malfoy, all right? I don't know what came over me."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. Wait--what? Do you?" she asked sharply. He gave a slight sigh and shifted in his seat.

"Of course. Death Eaters usually know when one is placed under Imperius."

"What?" Hermione screeched, knocking over her water glass. Snape looked surprised.

"I thought you knew."

"No, I bloody well did not know! Leave us alone!" she snapped at the waiter who had approached with a fresh glass of water. He set her glass down and scurried away.

"Wonderful. Listen, you are an incredibly talented witch. I do not argue this point. But did you honestly believe Lucius Malfoy didn't know someone had been in his home? Of course he knew you were there, silly girl. He didn't let on to Draco, but he cast the spell on Draco as well, forcing him to capture you."

"And then he cast the spell on me, to let me get away?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"No, you foolish child! Honestly, I thought you knew things. You said it yourself--how would it look if Draco brought his stowaway Mudblood to the attention of everyone? He wanted you to flee. Lucius loves a chase," he added with a bit of sarcasm.

"But… did he intend me to go to Dumbledore?"

"Yes, and he would have followed you if I hadn't interfered. I will admit, I wasn't aware that I was helping. I simply had good timing."

"Jesus," Hermione whispered, sinking her head into her arms.

"Don't dwell on it. It's happened."

"That's a funny thing coming from you, the prince of dwellers."

"Touché… keep going. I'm sorry I interrupted again."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know how much of the rest of it was actually me, and how much was someone else's designs. Am I a total idiot?"

"Absolutely not. You simply fell victim to someone quite stronger than you. Its certainly not your fault."

She snorted but continued, resigned to the explanation and curious now to see how else he could augment her understanding of events.

//////////

Hermione went to Grimmauld Place immediately, hoping she would find Dumbledore there. She didn't, of course, but she found Lupin, the next best thing. She poured out her tale and tried to ignore his constant reprimands for the danger she had placed herself in.

"We have to find Harry! And Malfoy is our only clue. Can you blame me for being a little reckless?" she had shouted. Lupin had shrugged mildly.

////////

"Yes, that does sound like dear old Remus," Snape muttered grimly. Hermione chose to ignore him.

////////

Hermione had been given tea and ordered to rest. Dumbledore would be contacted. Within the hour, he was at the door, looking very concerned. He was ushered into one of the upstairs bedrooms with Hermione. She had personally never seen him so tired and pinched. He looked thin and quite older than she remembered. He smiled wanly at her.

"What's the trouble, Miss Granger?" Within minutes she had poured out the entire story, her desperation, the way she had seemingly pulled the plan from nowhere. Dumbledore looked grim. He shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say this, Hermione, but you are in quite a spot. We don't need to incite the wrath of a Malfoy. Not now, when they may have Harry."

"They DO have him, sir. I know it. I just can't prove it," she admitted angrily. It hurt to say that. It hurt to imagine Harry, who knows where, counting on the Order--who were unable to help him at all.

"When Malfoy apprehends you, you must pretend to think quickly. You must find a way to entice Draco to save your life--and even…" Dumbledore lowered his eyes. Hermione leaned forward.

"Even what, sir?"

"Make him take you as his bride." Dumbledore said quickly--far too quickly for Hermione’s comfort.

"What? He'd never go for it! I'm not pureblood." And besides that, what the HELL are you talking about? She mentally added.

"No, you're not. And that will be difficult to overcome--but it must be done. You must make Draco see that killing you would be an incredible waste. Get him to imagine the possibilities! One of the Gryffindor Three, come to the Dark Side because of Draco Malfoy!"

"He'll love it."

"Indeed. And, don't worry--we'll make sure you are safe in any case."

Hermione sat in silence, pondering this new turn. She was awfully keen on knowing why Dumbledore had come up with this plan--and why, precisely, he was so enthusiastic about it. She'd expected him to help her escape, not invent new ways to imprison her. Finally, she cleared her throat and spoke timidly.

"Do you reckon this will help us find Harry?"

"I certainly hope so. More than that, it will give a direct link into Malfoy's actions."

"So, I'm to be a spy now?"

"Something like that," Dumbledore agreed. Hermione stewed inside but said nothing--there are certain people one doesn't challenge. Albus Dumbledore is definitely one of those people. She merely nodded in deference. Dumbledore left several minutes later, bidding Hermione good luck.

Hermione lay in bed that night, hundreds of questions swirling about in her overactive brain. She tossed and turned. Why had Dumbledore suggested marriage? He didn't even have to think about it. The plan was right there on the tip of his tongue, like he'd been waiting for the right time.

----

    "Well, of course. Dumbledore does know everything, doesn't he? He had a hunch that you'd go to Draco, that Draco would sell you to his father. He had to think of something." Snape pointed out.

    "Something that helps the Order. NOT something that saves my life!"

    "We all have to sacrifice. No matter. You didn't die. Continue, please."

---

    The night passed with Hermione in a fitful sleep, dreaming of Draco's face (horrifying enough) descending upon her, spitting insults. Suddenly Snape swooped down upon Draco and wrenched Hermione away, taking her into his arms and--

    "Hermione, you may want to wake up now." Lupin's voice drifted in from the hallway. Hermione jerked awake, keenly aware that she had just kissed Snape. It took her a few minutes to gather herself.

---

    "Is kissing me really that disconcerting?" Snape wondered humorously. Hermione cast a glare at him, he withered, she continued.

---

    Hermione wiled away the early morning hours in the house, eating breakfast and hoping for a pleasant day. She finally decided to go into Hogsmeade. She could do with some sweets. Hopefully Draco had the sense not to descend upon her in Hogsmeade. She dressed quickly, carefully. Making sure she didn't particularly stand out.

---

    "But to me, you always stand out," Snape admitted grimly--as though this were not a compliment at all, but a rather annoying behavior that she should cease at once.

    "I suppose. You managed to find me, didn't you?"

    "No, I believe you found me. I distinctly remember."

    "You tell it, then, if you're so smart. It's about time you took over." As if agreeing, the waiter finally appeared with their food. Hermione dug ravenously in and looked at Snape expectantly. He sighed.

    "All right. I suppose I do need to tell you a few things about our, hmm, encounter."