Breaking the Chains

Cloud-burst

Hermione wasn't in the Gryffindor Common Room, and Ginny hadn't seen her since last night. Nor was she in her room.

Trekking down to breakfast, yielded no result other than an enforced breakfast, in order to look normal, and an inanely cheerful conversation that would have been enjoyable the previous morning, as a diversion from life, but this morning was only a delay and an inconvenience.

Things were not looking good for the last thread of hope. It was in real danger of snapping, and was eventually severed by Hermione's empty seat in Transfiguration. No-one had the first clue where she was.

Not even Professor McGonagall, Harry noted with relief. Evidently Hermione had yet to report his crime. Immediately disgusted with himself for thinking of his own protection first, Harry then spent the rest of the lesson conscientiously worrying about Hermione's welfare and whereabouts, a whispered conversation and a hastily passed note earning himself a detention for inattentiveness.

Grabbing his stuff, eager to escape the confines of the classroom, Harry was stopped in his tracks by McGonagall's voice. To be precise, he froze guiltily.

This is the start said a nasty voice in his head the start of the accusations, the disgust, the tears, this time you'll be thrown out with no protection and nowhere left to go...

"Your detention, Mr Potter," McGonagall chided. "You may be thankful I do not have as selective memory as you appear to have today."

"Sorry, Professor."

"Be that as it may...Professor Hagrid was only remarking this morning that new...er...charges are becoming time consuming. Your detention will be to assist him this evening. I will inform him you are to report at 8pm."

"Yes, Professor."

"Very well, you may go and continue your efforts to locate Miss Granger now."

She knows, she knows, oh Merlin, she knows, began the Voice of Conscience.

No, she doesn't know. She would have said something. Act calm. Don't rouse suspicions. Keep walking. Find Hermione before anyone else does. Interjected the Voice of Self-Preservation, which was sounding infinitely more pacifying and reasonable to listen to than the prophecies of doom the Voice of Conscience had to offer.

"So what d'you have to do for McGonagall?" asked a nervous looking Ron, standing waiting outside the Transfiguration classroom door, startling Harry away from his internal monologue.

"Detention with Hagrid. At seven. Help him with some new creatures he's got. What?"

Ron had gone very pale. "Oh..." he filled, "oh...that doesn't sound good. Are we going to go and try and find Hermione then?"

Cold fear. Act calm. Don't rouse suspicions.

"Yeah. Any idea where to start? Library?" That was the Voice of Self-Preservation talking - keep him away from the astronomy tower, cause you know she's still there...

And with that the two boys set of in a seemingly concerned search of the castle, that was going to become ultimately fruitless, courtesy of the Voice of Self-Preservation.

* * *

The afternoon sun rays filled the room of the Astronomy tower where Hermione sat, immobile as a statue, and after this time, as unfeeling as one.

The sobbing of the early pre-dawn hour had wracked through her body until long after the sun had risen properly, singularly failing to lift her spirits with it. Now the exhaustion of a sleepless night, the trauma of the attack, and then the emotional drain had taken their toll and she had fallen into a state of near catatonia, not wanting to think or feel any more.

She remembered the sensation of leaving her body the night before. The way it had dulled the pain - and had allowed her to pretend for the shortest time that the rape was not happening.

That was the sensation she was trying to recapture - and had succeeded to recapture, aided by fatigue, as the morning and now afternoon wore on. Because it was definitely afternoon now.

She'd be missing potions right now.

Snape would be furious.

What she wouldn't give to be sitting at her usual table, helping Neville along, sniping at Malfoy and cronies, not a care in the world bar the mountain of homework to be completed, the expectation of everyone around her that she would be the best and the brightest at everything, and an evil megalomaniac plotting to kill her best friend and possibly her along with the rest of the world.

Strange how one night could change all your priorities. She'd gladly endure any of Snape's sarcastic remarks or injustices to escape this tower, the web of violence and betrayal that had confined her there, trapped inside a shell of silence and denial that made staying alive just do-able.

And so the afternoon wore on.

How long are you going to sit there for? a voice in her mind said and WHY is no-one looking for me? Does no-one care?

But this voice was ignored and, Hermione continued to sit in her cocoon until the sound of footsteps ascending the tower's spiral staircase filtered into her consciousness. Stealthy footsteps, like someone trying not to be heard, or not trying to step on a hem of a cloak that must not be dislodged or pulled.

Harry.

"Oh, God."

In her panic, a childhood habit slipped out, appealing to God instead of the pagan deities found in the wizarding world. Right now, she didn't care one jot.

He'd come back. She had to run. She couldn't go through that again.

Stumbling to her feet, she reached the entrance to the staircase, just as Harry emerged, and removed his invisibility cloak. She froze, forgetting to breathe.

But he didn't move as though to grab or attack her. Harry moved carefully around her, keeping a respectful distance and carefully not blocking her exit down the stairs. Then he leaned back against the wall, looking for all the world, as terrified and exhausted as she felt.

Only then did he speak, his voice husky and trembling with some suppressed emotion.

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

* * *

It was five to seven. Ron and Harry were sitting in the common room, in the comfy chairs in front of the fire. Ron, inexplicably, kept looking at the clock. What's he waiting for?

Professor McGonagall had been in an expressly forbidden the both of them to go looking for Hermione, telling them that the matter was being handled and putting themselves in danger was not going to help anyone. She had virtually ordered the whole common room to keep them in view at all times and had told Harry that Hagrid would be in the Entrance hall to pick him up for their detention.

When asked if either had any clue as to her whereabouts, Harry did not even have to bite his tongue to keep his confession inside.

Ah, yes, he thought. I told everyone that my detention was at seven. Clever, really, that.

"Oh, well, I go and get my cloak, head down to meet Hagrid, and then his charges," Harry announced cheerily, ostentatiously to Ron, but loud enough for all the common room to hear. "See you, Ron"

With which he left to collect his cloak, inside which the invisibility cloak was neatly folded. Tossing it over his arm, he strolled casually across the common room and out through the portrait hole, and walked in the direction of the astronomy tower as quickly as his need for stealth and silence would allow.

Half way up the spiral staircase he'd heard Hermione's stifled cry, and the scramble of her feet as she presumably made a bid to escape. Reaching the top of the stairs he waited until she arrived, and then revealed himself, and moved around her so that she would not feel overly threatened. He wanted to make peace, not frighten her even more; he realised he would have to handle this with caution, right before all semblance of calm and composure deserted him at the sight of her terrified, bruised face, and rigid unbreathing posture.

Then he did the only thing he could think to do.

He apologised.

She looked at him for a moment, then at the stairs. Then her knees gave way.

Harry restrained every urge he had to catch her, chivalry tempered with the knowledge that the last thing she would want was for him to touch her. So he let her fall to a sitting position.

Mirroring her he slid down the wall to crouch.

"I know it's nowhere near enough. And I don't expect you to forgive me, or even trust me. But you can't stay here forever. Come with me to the infirmary." At this she braced, shying away. "Tell Dumbledore everything, or I will, if you can't bear to relive it so soon. Please come with me," he pleaded.

The Voice of Self-Preservation was suppressed in his head...you're not going to confess, or you'd have done it already...you've done too much to quit now...you can still save yourself, frighten her into silence.

"Come with me," he repeated, keeping his voice away from anything threatening or commanding.

"No." Right now it looked like all he was going to coax out of her.

"Okay. Will you go on your own? If I leave? Go and get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No." Faced with his penitence, the old Hermione was slowly returning. "I don't want anyone to know. I can't face it."

Relief was ruthlessly suppressed. Too soon to hope for a way out.

"You need to be treated."

"You can do it. I know you can." A pause. "And if we tell Dumbledore, you'll be expelled and then Voldemort will kill you for sure."

Silence from Harry. This was not going as expected.

"Not that you don't deserve it. And don't get me wrong, I don't care one way or another..."

The old steel was returning to her voice, mixed with what was sounding more and more like contempt, like her confidence was returning faced with Harry's silence and humility.

"...but you have to save the world, unlikely hero (virtually spat) as you may be, and I intend to have a full life, so you need to stay right where you are for now."

Had she finished?

"So you want me to heal you?" Harry asked cautiously, gently.

"Yes. Just don't touch me."

Taking out his wand, Harry noted that Hermione tensed immediately as he pointed it at her, concluding the surety and confidence was only skin deep, if that. Not that he was in any place to blame her.

"Speculum injuriam". A misty, silvery form that was unmistakably a three-dimensional mirror image of the seated Hermione. Harry fussed for a moment over the insubstantial form, working through the areas of deep blue in the silver that denoted an injury on the real Hermione. When the image finally shone pure silver Harry pointed his wand at it again and muttered "levo disiunctio", and the silver form settled over Hermione, spreading warm throughout her body as it superimposed its healthy state over her injured one, until all the wounds and bruises were gone.

* * *

The whole process took about ten minutes and used a good deal of Harry's power, which was probably alerted Voldemort to the situation unfurling. This looked remarkably like a reconciliation. Not what was planned for. Not at all.

Subtly he slipped the tendrils of control into Potter's mind and bided his time.

* * *

When the silvery image finally faded, denoting the healing was complete, Hermione rose to her feet.

"This stays between us. But it is the last thing we do together. I'm not going to blackmail you, but I expect you to have enough decency left to respect my wishes. I won't fight you for Ron, I expect I'd loose."

She turned to go. Then stopped. With her back turned, she whispered the question that had been haunting her all day:

"Did you plan it?"

Harry started to shake his head, then realising she couldn't see him, hesitated, struggling to find the right words, which was all the opportunity Voldemort needed to take over.

Stepping forward, Harry placed his hand on her shoulder as if in a dream, whilst using the other hand to gently caress the back of her neck. Then and only then he whispered in her ear, "It wouldn't have hurt so much if you hadn't have struggled"

The touch and the sound sent shivers down her spine and lent wings to her feet. With a choked sob she wrenched free and hurtled down the stairs, reaching the bottom, turning randomly, unaware of her surroundings until she bumped into something solid and fell.

It turn out to be Professor Snape.

She looked up lost for words. He looked down, taking a moment to register what he saw, but once the realisation settled of what the cause of that wild, traumatised look in her eyes was, it was unshakable. Merlin knew he saw it enough.

Voice carefully neutral, he phrased the question as simply as he could;

"Miss Granger, who raped you?"

When she didn't reply, her features a mask of horror, Snape felt his assumption had been justified.

"Miss Granger? Is that what happened?"

She began to shake her head slowly, and until he deciphered the words she was muttering, Snape began to hope that she had been spared the ultimate violation, before the hope was crushed.

"No, no, no. . . I can't. . . no, no. . . this isn't happening. . . how did YOU KNOW!" This last was screamed at him, her voice slowly rising to an hysterical pitch.

Pulling herself to her feet, the young woman in front of him briefly caught his eyes, before choking out;

"I can't stand everyone to know. I can't deal with this. I won't."

And as Snape recognised the self-destructive rage that swept over her, Hermione turned on her heal and fled, heading without a doubt for the Astronomy Tower, and the long jump into oblivion. He was sure, for he recognised that part of her with the aspect of himself that led him up to the turret himself on occasion to contemplate jumping, even though magic restrained him from actually going through with it.

Reaching the top of the tower, breathless and sweating, Snape saw that she was already on the ledge.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!!"

She said nothing. But she wasn't moving. She doesn't want sympathy. She has her pride.

"You can't nearly knock me off my feet and then shout at me and then run off without even so much as an explanation! Miss Granger?"

Seemingly despite herself she turned around partially and answered, using ironically enough the sarcasm he had always used to keep the world at bay;

"Just taking a short walk of a long cliff. Nothing for you to concern yourself with - one less Gryffindor to taunt, though - so maybe you will feel the loss after all."

A thread to lead him away from the minotaur - keep cool now. Don't drive her away now.

"Fine. But take me with you."

That stopped her. She stared at him with her mouth ever so slightly open, before she remembered herself and closed it.

Snape looked her directly in the eye. This is you chance Severus. Don't blow it.

"You're serious."

"Deadly."

A ghost of a laugh escaped her at the terrible pun. So, she wasn't too far gone after all. Still, the situation held potential.

"Well. . . if you want to die so badly. . . why don't you jump?"

Still standing on the ledge, but fully turned around now. Interested. Curious.

"Have you ever heard of the Promissum Charm?" A silent shake of the head "It is a little known bit of magic that binds a person to a promise that they make. In my case, Dumbledore had me swear that I wouldn't commit suicide. So I am physically incapable of jumping."

"Then I couldn't take you over anyway."

He had her now - hooked on the puzzle, unwilling to let go before every last bit of knowledge was wrested from the new source.

"Yes, you could, because you would effectively be pushing me against my will. The charm only prevents my action, not persuading anyone else to help me along. I had rather hoped Voldemort would oblige, but he seems to enjoy making me suffer too much."

Her brows had furrowed. This meant a big question for sure.

"Wouldn't that make me a murderess?"

A thunderbolt from the blue. Count on Granger.

"No. It would make you an angel of mercy."

Unspoken: Lend me your rod and staff.

They just looked at each other. Eventually, Hermione moved to sit down on the ledge.

Finally, she muttered "I'm sorry."

He shook his head sadly. "No need. I wouldn't expect any less from a Gryffindor, after all. So, do you still want to die?"

Snape joined Hermione on the ledge, as she pondered. Too busy on the big question to even notice the perceived insult. Or maybe only a Gryffindor would see it that way. "No."

"Good. It would be an awful waste (at this her head snapped up, but he continues anyway), to big a sacrifice for the scum who did this to you. I don't suppose you're going to tell me who (a shake of her head), well never mind, the more important question is, if you don't want to die, what do you want?"

Again, a pause. Using the sharp edge of the twin bladed Slytherin Sword - enticement. No need to use the duller edge of coercion. Yet.

"I want my life back."

Delicate strokes. Use the broadsword like a poniard. Little cuts.

"I can help you Hermione, if you want my help, that is. I have some experience in. . . well. . . the darker side of the soul, and I know of a few roads back."

Even if they are the Road Less Travelled. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I stood there looking at the path to salvation and the wider road to damnation. Eighteen years later I'm still at the juncture, breaking down under the pressure of indecision.

He called me Hermione. He thinks it'd be a waste if I died. He wants to help me. He wants me to kill him.

"Is that a selfless offer of help from a Slytherin?" Just a hint of mockery to her voice.

"No Miss Granger, it isn't, and you know it."

He wants me to murder him. Say it, because we both know it.

"Tell me why you want to die so badly. Being bored of life and spying and pain don't cut it, you know." The life was back in her voice now, she was already on the road back.

"I carried out numerous atrocities as a Death Eater. And I was never punished because I was more useful as a double agent. But nothing I can do can ever make amends. I'm supposed to be content with being a bastard, so long as I'm a useful one."

Shocked silence. Not far enough on the road back, then, you need to explain Severus. Don't blow it now.

"Someone once told me that when we get knocked down, especially in a conflict that involves fatalities, it is our duty to get up and carry on. Staying down allows the aggressor to win, and is not a mark of respect to the fallen." A pause as he dragged his thoughts together.

Talk faster. She's slipping away from you.

"I took the lives of so many people that deserved to live, and now that I deserve to die, I have to live, listening to the screams of the fallen with every breath I take. You think I'm trying to escape my punishment." His tone said it was a statement not a question. "But whatever better place you believe in, I'm not on the way there. I just want to end this, and make the imbalance right. This is my mark of respect."

Please let her understand. Nothing else is beyond her comprehension. And I Don't have the energy to start work with the Duller Edge.

Still silence. Were those tears in her eyes? Did it work?

Is the end on its way?

Slowly, oh so slowly, she reached out her hand, towards him.

"Professor Snape, it's a deal."

The tears were running freely down her cheeks now.

What have you done, Hermione? Cries her Voice of Caution.

Silence inside and out. Tears for herself as much as for him.

"Thank you. Now we ought to go down and tell the other teachers you've turned up like a bad penny."

He smiled slightly to indicate it was a joke, but she once again looked horrified.

"You won't tell them what happened will you? Please don't." She gazed at him imploringly.

"You will have to face the real world again some time, you know. But no, not tonight, and I will have to inform the Headmaster."

She nodded her assent almost immediately, and got up. They left the tower side by side, bound by an unlikely covenant.

* * *

From the corner of the turret, under his invisibility cloak, Harry let out the breath he'd been holding for Merlin knows how long.

That was surreal.

And a relief.

He was a safe for now.

Looking at his watch, he discovered it was ten to eight.

He'd have to run, not to be too late for his detention.

No use acting suspicious after he'd been handed this glorious second chance.

* * *

Entering the corridor, Snape turned and began steering Hermione towards his private rooms in the dungeon.

And promptly ran into Minerva McGonagall.

Just great.

McGonagall for her part flew towards Hermione, as if to hug her, before pulling herself up short and opening with an irritated;

"Where have you been, Miss Granger? The whole faculty has been looking for you."

Hermione opened her mouth uncertainly, looking vulnerable, and Snape felt the sudden urge to step in and protect her from McGonagall's ill-timed interrogation.

"Miss Granger has been filling me in on the details of today's events. Suffice to say that she is here now. Minerva, I would appreciate it if you would inform the Headmaster of this turn of events, so he can call off the search. I will be in my rooms, where I will continue this discussion with Miss Granger, and will not profit from being disturbed until the morning."

With that he turned on his heel to begin herding Hermione towards the dungeons once again.

Why do I always expect him to click his heels together three times when he does that? Back to reality, Minerva - time to rescue your student.

"Is that alright with you, Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked disbelievingly.

Hermione summoned up a suitably fervent "Yes, Professor," noting with surprise McGonagall's acceptance of Snape's orders, despite him being her junior.

Just went to show that any order delivered with enough confidence would be obey without question.

Useful tip that really.

Minerva watched the unusual couple walk away with a slightly bemused expression on her face, before heading toward the Headmaster's office.

Wonders truly never did cease.