Propensity and the Chaotic Pendulum

Snape had felt like a little chemical assistance, and not of the potions variety. So he headed for the Hog‘s Head--to drink away his pain, he thought with a sardonic smile. 'How very apropos. I'm feeling particularly self-loathing, so why not compound the problem by imbibing large quantities of alcohol and attempting to think about my life philosophically?'

As it happened, Hermione wandered in to the pub. Snape saw her enter, but as her existence was rather tangential to his, barely noted it. Until she appeared at his elbow, slightly flushed and whispering urgently.

"Professor Snape, I need to speak to you immediately--privately," she emphasized, going so far as to take his arm and attempt to pull him up from his stool. He had sneered at her, but complied. He'd had just about enough Firewhiskey for this to seem a good idea.

She had led him to a bench on the outskirts of the main business area and roughly pulled him to a sitting position beside her. Again, the Firewhiskey prevented Snape from objecting heartily, as he normally would have done. In fact, as he looked upon Hermione's urgent countenance, he found himself feeling very different, indeed.

"Professor, I know you still spy sometimes with, you know, the Death Eaters… sorry!" she hastily said as Snape's jaw set.

"No bother, continue," he had mumbled, feeling very disoriented. What in the world was she on about?

"Well. I don't know if you know this, but I was at Malfoy's house. Looking for Harry, you know. I didn't find him, obviously, but I was thinking--well, if the Death Eaters have Harry, surely they all know about it?"

"A perfectly logical argument. Flawed only in one regard. We have no inkling of the idiot boy's whereabouts." Snape then smiled. Not a smirk, nor a sneer, but a genuine smile.

Hermione finally realized that Snape's behavior was perhaps a bit altered due to his visit to the pub. She attempted to catch his eye but found that he was having difficulty keeping his eyes in one spot.

"Of course you're drunk. I need you, and you're drunk." she muttered.

"Miss Granger, you know enough about the world to find Potter on your own, I'm quite sure. You don't need me."

There was a silence; Snape felt rather comfortable within it, but Hermione looked quite consternated. "What's wrong, Miss Granger? Anything I might be able to help you with?" he asked. Suddenly she turned on him.

"You should drink more often, Professor. You're almost agreeable."

"I shall never drink again," he joked. Another silence fell. Snape felt distinctly uncomfortable this time, mainly due to the way he had suddenly noticed Miss Granger's proximity. He attempted to slide away but found the bench was not really overlarge. He was rather stuck. And their thighs were touching. It was as if he had just realized that Hermione Granger was a woman. "Oh, damn it all," he whispered.

"What was that?" she snapped. He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

"I can't help you, silly girl. Get away from me." Snape was only vaguely familiar with the sensation in the pit of his stomach--a rather pleasant tickling feeling. His hands began to move of their own accord, entirely too close to Miss Granger's leg. She apparently noticed this and attempted to shift away, running into the same problem with the small bench that he had minutes prior.

"Professor, are you… feeling altogether well?" she ventured. He gave a short scoff.

"Must you always ask questions, you insufferable--"

"Know it all?" she finished with a slightly wounded smile. He turned his face fully towards hers with appreciation. He noticed she had faint dark circles beneath her eyes--probably worried about Potter, he reflected.

"Are you in love with Potter?" he asked idly, wondering vaguely exactly how much he'd had to drink. Asking her about her love life, of all things. Hermione appeared as stunned as Snape felt by the question, but recovered quite nicely.

"No. He's merely an old, close friend. My tastes run in quite…opposite directions," she had admitted, a slight blush rising in her cheeks.

---

"And of course you didn't realize I was talking about you, did you?" Hermione piped up, mouth full of egg. Snape raised his eyebrows. "Obviously not. Well… for the record, I was."

Snape didn't even know how to answer that.

---

He had felt a surge of triumph when she admitted she didn't love Potter. Years and all kinds of heroics had not sweetened Harry to Snape. They loathed each other with the same ferocity that they had always done. Snape wondered, too, about Weasley--they had dated in their sixth and seventh years, after all. But he found suddenly he was a bit afraid to hear her answer, and chose instead to pick at the hem of his robes. Hermione had never seen him act so awkward, so confused--he was normally graceful, always ready with a biting comment, never at a loss for what to do with his hands.

"Professor, maybe you should get home," she suggested. She made to stand up and was entirely shocked when his hand closed around her arm and pulled her slightly, back down.

"If you don't mind, Miss Granger, I'd enjoy you to stay with me." The little Snape in his mind was shouting at him. What do you think you're doing, you git?

Apparently Hermione thought something similar, because she wrenched her arm away from him. He looked up at her; her face was contorted into something he didn't quite recognize. 'Probably revulsion,' he thought. 'What else would she feel?'

"Professor, I--I actually need to go. I'm really sorry, but I have work early in the morning and I--"

"It's fine, Granger. Go." he said, suddenly feeling even worse for the effort. She looked down at him with that same odd expression and inched away. She was probably afraid, he reflected--after all, he was hardly acting like the Snape she knew from school. She was either afraid he'd suddenly turn back into that Snape; or that he was indeed insane.

----

"Actually, I saw Draco lurking in the trees, staring at us. I wanted to sit with you, but I couldn't easily do that, could I?" Hermione said matter of factly, as if Snape should have seen Draco through the eyes in the back of his head.

"Oh, of course!" he said. "Why didn't I guess Draco Malfoy could see us--indeed, why wasn't I aware of the marriage plan?"

"Good question. You don't seem to be a very good member of the Order," she smirked. Snape's insides contracted at this seeming insult. Given the circumstances, he was able to quell the rage that was bubbling within him. For just a second there, she had sounded like good old Sirius--a death Snape had never lamented, he would freely admit. Apparently Hermione could see she had touched a nerve, for she gently cleared her throat for him to continue.

----

Hermione had hustled away, leaving Snape highly inebriated and also quite a bit angry. He reached down and grabbed a rock, for the sheer purpose of throwing it. He got up rather quickly and headed for Hogwarts--when in doubt, brew a potion. When incredibly horny, do the same. When tired… well, you get it. Snape liked to brew Potions.

There was something ultimately appealing about it all. There were always answers. Everything could be simplified into ingredients, order, temperature, movements--there was no variable he could not account for. Despite the dead usefulness of Potions, far beyond any other branch of magic. The Killing Curse was certainly one of the most powerful bits of magic around--but there were an infinite number of potions which could kill the drinker. Not quite as dramatic as all the green light, but nevertheless effective.

Snape didn't account for his serious lack of motor skills during his drunkenness. After he had spilled his third vial of armadillo bile, he decided to perhaps give up and retire for the night. He headed for his rooms, wearily deducting points from passing students, simply for breathing loudly. Couldn't they tell his head was throbbing? Granted it was not late at night… in fact it was relatively early, supper having just finished. 'Merlin's beard, did I really start drinking the second I woke up?' he wondered as he saw the sun was barely setting. He had not been much aware of the sun's position as he sat next to Hermione Granger in Hogsmeade. 'Oh, don't think of that now,' he scolded himself. He crawled rather hastily into bed, not bothering to change from his robes or even extinguish the one flame he had going. Sleep immediately enfolded him.

It continued to enfold him, throughout the entire night and a large part of the next day. He blinked his eyes reluctantly open halfway through Sunday, feeling acutely ill. His stomach turned as he tried to move his head. It felt as though someone had placed bricks on either side of his head; he could not move it more than a millimetre either way. His eyes squeezed shut; even the slight rays of light he allowed in his room were far too bright. His entire body was throbbing. He tried to raise his hands to his head, but found that they were leaden. He let out a creaking groan; his vocal chords were apparently also very, very hung over. He had a vague memory involving Miss Granger, but couldn't quite grasp it over the throbbing within his head.

Bad day for a hangover, he thought as his arm suddenly twinged. He managed to pull himself to a sitting position, yanking his sleeve up. "Damn," he muttered. Of all the things he'd wanted to do this day, going to face his fellow Death Eaters was not among them. Even if it wouldn't be the Dark Lord today--something which was a great relief, because he hardly thought the Dark Lord would appreciate his faithful follower being infatuated with Hermione Granger. His fireplace suddenly started sputtering, and he barely had time to pull the covers back before two masked Death Eaters were at his side, dragging him from the bed. Before he could even clear his head, he was being Flooed away. He barely had time to hope Dumbledore would notice.

As they went up in flames, Snape felt one of his captors grab the back of his head. After that, he remembered nothing; felt nothing; and saw nothing. He blinked himself awake what could have been hours later, and found himself on a cold stone floor in the middle of a group of jeering Death Eaters. Knowing that this was definitely not a good place to be, Snape closed his eyes again, trying to think--trying to sort out what was happening, what had he done, had he been found out? A thousand fears managed to fly through his brain--that they'd get Dumbledore, that Minerva would be hurt, that their work would be compromised, that Hogwarts would be breached, that Hermione would be killed--

"Yes, Hermione," someone close to him whispered. Snape immediately tensed. Clear your mind, Severus, he instructed. He felt immediately thoughts and emotions drain away--he was, after all, quite used to this. But he feared he was too late. They had seen enough of his feelings to know everything. He was going to die now.

----

Hermione couldn't suppress a gasp. Snape's eyes flicked over her unpleasantly.

"No need for theatrics. Obviously I didn't die."

Hermione reddened and lowered her eyes. Snape took a few moments to impress upon her that she needn't feel anything for him--although he wasn't sure she quite got the message.

----

"Hermione Granger." came the voice again. Snape stared determinedly forward, having been pulled to his knees. His hands were bound behind him in typical fashion when one faces the Inquisitorial Squad--a term that had been coincidentally and unwittingly adopted by Dolores Umbridge to describe those holding a similar reign of terror at Hogwarts. Snape had once stood where this very man stood. He had held his wand just as menacingly at another's throat. He did his best to shove these memories away, but not before they had been gleaned from his alcohol-muddled mind.

"Yes, Severus. You were once one of us, and now you've betrayed us," came the voice again, and this time Snape could identify it as belonging to Lucius Malfoy. Snape's stomach fell but he kept all thoughts from his mind. It was all over, he knew, but he couldn't dwell on it. They would play on his fears. It was somehow all more terrifying having seen it before. Instead of being quite accustomed to it, Snape was terrified--he knew what awaited him, he had carried it out himself. He knew it was not pleasant.

"Indeed?" he said, forcing a note of surprise into his voice. "And just how have I done that?"

"I believe you were spotted with Hermione Granger," Lucius drawled. Snape's stomach convulsed again. Do what you want to me, he thought unconsciously--but don't touch Hermione. He wasn't quite sure why he felt so protective of her. Perhaps it was that over their seven-year stint at Hogwarts, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gotten into more trouble than any students past or present. Being in a state of nervousness over their actions had become a way of life for Hogwarts professors--even Snape, loather extraordinaire. He may have disliked them all, but he certainly hadn't wanted any of them to meet harm. Seeing Hermione had made him recall the feelings he had for her--that she was such a bright girl, but had chosen the entirely wrong path in life. She was not meant for dangerous activity.

He pushed all these thoughts down as soon as they floated to the surface, but was having little luck. He knew Lucius was trying his best to draw forth these very thoughts. It was a silent battle, but by no means simple. They were equally skilled at Legilimency and Occlumency--one pulled, the other pushed.

"Enough of this!" someone else snapped from behind Snape. He recognized the voice as a matured drawl of one Draco Malfoy. He didn't have to bother to suppress any emotions--he had none on the subject of young Mr. Malfoy. He was not any less nor any more annoying than any other overconfident Slytherin.

"Can I help you, Draco?" his father asked coolly--clearly meaning, Draco, this is not your concern.

"Yes. She was my territory. And the first thing he does is go and try to get her alone. I won't have that!" he snorted. Snape could have sworn he stomped his foot. He couldn't help thinking, what a whiny brat. Thankfully, Lucius had turned his attentions to his son.

"I know all this, Draco. What do you propose we do?"

"Kill him." Draco supplied instantly, a malicious gleam in his eye. Snape did not even flinch, he merely stared resolutely at the same spot on the floor. He knew suddenly, from Lucius' face alone, that he was to live--but perhaps he would wish he did not.

"Come now, Draco. I don't think we want to kill someone who is of so much use to us. However, he has betrayed us, and that does deserve punishment. I rather think the Muggle-lover deserves a physical reminder of his treachery." he turned his eyes, cold through his slitted hood, upon Snape. He stared up into Lucius' eyes with no fear. He would meet this challenge; just as long as they didn't deprive him of his place in the group. It was too important.

Snape stood up; he would not be intimidated. Lucius began his punishment speech: "My son has clearly marked Miss Granger as his own--of course, she is no longer Miss Granger. She is now Mrs. Draco Malfoy. She has abandoned the side of good to join us--I have not yet decided if I will allow her to stay. She must prove herself. She could be useful, after all. And she does make young Draco happy. You should have seen how she kicked and screamed--oh, he did well indeed," Lucius murmured, a hint of pride in his voice. "But apparently the bonds of marriage mean nothing to you, for I have reports that you entreated the company of Mrs. Malfoy--yesterday, in fact. A few short hours before her wedding was performed--right in this very room. A direct order was given to leave Hermione Granger alone--and you have betrayed that order. For the love of a filthy Mudblood. Gone against the word of your fellow Death Eaters, for what? The lowest form of being imaginable," he had spat. He punched Snape easily in the stomach, knocking him to his knees. He gave a feeble cough but was too stunned to do much else. Lucius delivered a kick to his shoulder, toppling Snape to the ground. Two random men rushed forward and began patting Snape down. They pulled his wand from his robes and handed it triumphantly to Lucius, who hauled Snape to a standing position. "You deserve no less than to live as one of your precious Muggles." He delivered a swift kick to Snape's stomach, which sent Snape to his knees again. He then cleanly snapped the wand in two; as Snape tried his best not to groan. Lucius threw the pieces down in front of Snape, who made to grab them. Stupid move, he reflected, as a foot trampled solidly on his outstretched hand.

Snape had given a slight shudder at the pain coursing through his hand, but quickly turned his look to one of stony silence. He could not allow them to break him--even though they already had. Muggle-lover… Hermione married…. Snape felt himself unraveling inside as the group closed in upon him, wands at the ready. Random hexes flew at Snape from all directions- he found himself several feet in the air and bleeding within seconds. The Death Eaters allowed him to fall naturally onto the stones, crunching at least one metatarsal. Snape gritted his teeth but said nothing, reaching to carefully wipe the blood from his brow. A few drops gathered in his eyelashes, he blinked them away furiously. The last thing he needed was obstructed vision. As he lay bleeding on the floor, the second round of hexes began. He felt his consciousness beginning to ebb; waves of blackness washed over him as a wrenching pain fricasseed his nerve endings. He bit through his lip trying not to scream, blood was now pouring from his forehead, mouth, leg, arm, and judging from the wetness of his robe front, his chest.

The fact that Snape had not received a beating this severe in ages registered with him--not even at the hands of the Dark Lord himself had he been subject to this humiliation. The word Muggle-lover reverberated in his mind. He was not… he didn't love anybody, he was Severus Snape, king of coldness and the comeback. He felt entirely childish, stranded in the middle of the floor with not a friendly face in sight. Hermione's face shimmered before him, replaced suddenly by Draco's. Pain lurched throughout his entire body. She's just a girl… but Snape couldn't help himself feeling as though something had been stolen from right beneath his nose.

Something was stirring within him, something long dormant--something that had previously flared only before Sirius Black and Harry Potter. Memories of his childhood, his screaming father--memories of cowering in the corner. Memories of being laughed at, rejected, taunted, teased, abused--memories he had never been able to let go of. And in his drunken haze, he had not used his Pensieve before sleeping. All these thoughts were fair game for the Death Eaters, who could feed off his sudden rush of emotions as dogs on a freshly deceased animal. One raised his wand and levitated Snape, who had a horrible feeling that he could predict what was coming. Sure enough, he found himself upside down. "Like that, Snivellus?" the Eater jeered. Snape did everything in his power not to scream.

----

"It's amazing, Miss Granger," he said suddenly, breaking the tone of his story with a no-nonsense attitude. "for how long and at what length our childhood memories haunt us."

"Is that something that happened to you?" she ventured.

"Yes, yes. I had assumed Potter told you. The always exciting duo of Black and Potter."

"I'm sure that was hard," she managed, trying to fight her surprise that Snape's hatred of Harry's dad had at least some basis. She had always just assumed Snape had been jealous.

"Perhaps I was jealous," he said. Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Don't say that's what you were thinking, you idiot. "But maybe he was just arrogant… maybe it was both."

"At any rate, they hit you pretty hard."

"Yes, they did. I'd imagine its something like you feel when someone calls you a know-it-all. Or even a Mudblood. It hurts, and it has always hurt, and it may well continue to hurt." Snape lost himself in his thoughts for a minute. Hermione allowed him to sit in silence. His recollections were far more dangerous than hers had been. He continued again, with less fervor.

----

At the name Snivellus, Snape cracked. He emitted a sound that was a hybrid of a scream and a snarl; the tormenting Death Eater suddenly collapsed. Gasping, Snape landed on the ground, head first. He nearly lost consciousness, but managed to hang on by a thread. The remaining tormenters had taken a step back; he had just attacked Crabbe with no wand. Clearly his rage was out of control. Every wizard accidentally does things in anger, but for one as wise and emotionally controlled as Snape, it was unprecedented. He hadn't hurt anyone on accident since his childhood, before he'd learned anything about magical control. Snape seized the opportunity of their stunned silence to grab the wand from the unconcious Crabbe. He stood and in a single sweeping curse, knocked four of them flat. The others advanced upon him. Snape found himself disarmed again, but this time the element of surprise was on his side. As the men approached him with their wands outstretched, he resorted to physical combat, placing one solid blow to the solar plexus of the closest one. The others stepped back, allowing Snape a window of two seconds to retrieve his fallen wand and hex them against a wall. He was left facing only Lucius. At the first sign of blood, Draco had high-tailed it. He lifted his wand to Lucius.

"Severus," he said in a deadly whisper. "Would you hurt an old friend?"

"No," he admitted. "But then, since when did I have friends?" and promptly stunned Lucius. Before he left the room, he tried his best wide-spread memory charm. Hopefully, some of them would forget some of what had transpired. He didn't have time to stay and find out. With the stolen wand firmly in his hand, he ran as best as he could with his crushed foot and aching back. He had to find Dumbledore, had to warn him they might be compromised--had to find Hermione, where was Hermione…

His thoughts continued in a similarly disorganized and frantic fashion as he weaved his way up the staircase. He began to recognize the place as Malfoy Manor. He would do well enough getting out, he had some sense of where he was going. He just had to hope not to run into Draco or Narcissa---or indeed, anyone.

This was a vain hope, as around the first corner, he saw movement. He sucked in his breath and flattened himself against a wall. But all the mental preparation for capture was for naught when the wanderer came into his line of vision.

"Professor Snape?" it gasped. Snape could say nothing. He merely stood there, in shock. Well, of course, his brain reasoned. She's married to Draco, she lives here now.

"Miss Granger," he said, immediately wishing he hadn't, for now he had to correct himself. "Mrs. Malfoy, I mean," he scowled. Her eyes flickered.

"What did they do to you?" she gasped as she absorbed all the details of his appearance. Snape choked back a laugh.

"Punished me," he said with a note of irony. Suddenly his body tensed, he heard footsteps. "Someone's coming," he whispered, looking around for a hiding spot. Hermione grasped his hand and shoved him into a closet, squeezing herself in next to him.

----

"And I'm sure you remember what happened next," he muttered. Her eyes were suddenly fire again. Snape looked determinedly at his untouched breakfast platter.

"I do. But I think we'd do well to recount the tale."

"Now, really. You simple child. What good will it do?"

"Quite a bit. Or would you rather I tell it? Perhaps we should both tell it--after all, it did happen to both of us," she said, a slight edge to her voice. His stomach did a flip at the idea of hearing her speak about it--he couldn't imagine. He thought he had experienced pain and humiliation, but rape must be the worst pain and humiliation ever. Even more disturbing was the idea that, despite all the pain he may have caused, Snape didn't know if he would refrain from doing it, given a second chance.