Happy Traditions, everyone! Title: Unlikely Bedfellows, Part 4 Author:cmwinters Gift For: all fest participants! [original recipient] wanted hurt/comfort, D/s with spanking and femmedom, threesome, Eastern Europan Summer Solstice/Festival of St. John the Baptist, Saturnalia/Yule, Lammas/First Fruits, anything Jewish and/or anything Christian. Er, I tried. Pairing(s): Lucius/Hermione/Severus, Lucius/Severus Summary: Hermione finds herself in a strange alliance with the Malfoy family when it's discovered that Snape is alive and in desperate need of immediate medical attention Rating: NC-17 Warnings: BDSM, hurt/comfort, slightly dominant female, threesome, some homosexual themes although I wouldn't strictly call it "slash" Author's notes: I hope the beginning isn't too entirely boring. I tried to set it up for something plausible. The muse went on the warpath here. *stabs her with a rusty titanium spork*
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 The following couple of weeks were absolute hell for Hermione. Snape alternately refused to speak to her, frequently glowering forbiddingly the entire time she was there, or feigned sleep in her presence. Having become quite distressingly aware of each laboured breath during his earlier convalescence, she was completely aware that his fidgeting meant she was silently being insulted. Yet, the Malfoys continued to have various pressing engagements that were so well planned that even Hermione couldn't be suspicious of, no matter how badly she wanted to some days.
The Malfoys continued to be gracious hosts. She quickly learned to be careful with her words, even when pointedly questioned, after an apparently innocent conversation about favourite foods resulted in those foods being prepared for her that evening, and a similarly seemingly innocent conversation with Narcissa about clothing found the colours and styles she'd expressed even the slightest interest in nearly bursting out of the wardrobe in her guest room. But it was the sudden replenishment of her toiletries that really made her self-conscious. She wasn't paying the Malfoys anything and while to a certain extent she felt like her allowing all of them family time three or four times a week was worth room and board for the remainder of the day, she thought they were taking it to a bit of an extreme, although they never seemed in the least bit overtaxed, and they never, ever mentioned any of it to her.
The situation with Snape, however, became more and more unbearable. Although he was still too weak to be left unattended, once the healer decreed his body reasonably capable of auto-regulating temperature, they were no longer required to provide body heat for stability, much to Hermione's immense relief. She hadn't minded when he was unconscious and indifferent, but him lying stiffly next to her, exuding what she was sure was (despite Lucius' protestations to the contrary) unbridled contempt made her edgy and miserable.
But one day toward the end of July, things came to a festering head. Hermione had been desperately attempting to ignore the vicious scowl Snape was casting her way by burying her nose in Labyrinthine Layers: A Wizards Guide to Mind Magic when Snape cleared his throat.
"Miss Granger," he growled at her after she failed to respond. "When your primary responsibility of senselessly memorising that which you don't understand is sufficiently sated, your so-called secondary responsibility would appreciate your time."
She recoiled at the vicious tone of his voice and looked at him sheepishly.
"I require your assistance," he declared. She was gobsmacked. He hadn't spoken a single word to her since Lucius had intervened when he'd insulted her. Confused, she stood and walked to him.
"Yes, sir?"
"I need to visit the lavatory, and I cannot make it all the way there under my own power," he snapped at her.
"Oh. Um . . . do you want me to Mobilicorpus you? Or conjure a stretcher for you?"
"No, Miss Granger, I need your support so I can walk there!" he hissed at her.
"Oh! Right. Sorry, sir," she said, leaning down to help pull his still painfully thin body upright. He hissed when she touched him and she nearly recoiled in fear, afraid she was hurting him.
"Get on with it," he growled at her.
She awkwardly rotated around him, trying to find a semi-comfortable position for them both, which was difficult as he provided no assistance or guidance. They took a few tentative and awkward steps forward, stumbling until each got the measure of the others gait.
After what seemed an eternity, they'd managed to cross the room and arrive at the door. He held his arms out on either side of the door, effectively preventing her from going in there with him. Confused, she looked up at him.
"I'll need my wand," he spat at her upon seeing her bewildered expression.
"Oh. Um," she hedged, chewing her lip. She held her wand out to him, handle first. "Would you prefer to use mine to summon it?" she said, not at all certain where his wand was, and as he was still leaning on her she couldn't exactly walk away to get it.
"Yes, Miss Granger, I would; however, as I am not entirely certain that so doing would not cast me back into that abominable coma, you will have to do it for me. I trust you remember the spell?"
With tears pricking at the edges of her eyes, she swished her wand and intoned "Accio Snape's wand!", which she only did verbally to demonstrate that she wasn't casting any nefarious spells on the precious object. Thank Merlin for practise, because she was sure if she'd tried to say anything else, her voice would have broken. The slender piece of wood sailed across the room into her palm, and she surrendered it to Snape.
"That will be all, Miss Granger," he announced, using his arms to brace himself on the sink as he gingerly made his way to the toilet, kicking the door shut behind him and nearly slamming her in the nose with it.
Hermione was confused. She was both horrified that he'd continue to be so rude and demanding, and wondering how he intended on taking care of himself if he thought a simple Summoning charm would magically deplete him to the point of endangering his life.
She swiped at her eyes and stalked back to her chair. With him not glowering at her from across the room and building unbearably hostile energy, she was able to become absorbed in her book.
Some time later, she realised she'd finished three chapters of it, and the light outside had shifted considerably. She looked up and glanced about the room; Snape was not there, and the bathroom door was still closed. She frowned in concern. Snape didn't seem like the type to spend hours "upon the throne", and in any case, he hadn't had enough solid food to necessitate it.
But she was afraid to knock at the door, certain he would be infuriated with her for interrupting. She frowned, worried about his condition.
After several minutes of indecision, she finally made her way over to her bag and extracted an Extendable Ear, which she slipped under the door.
A muffled groan and shallow breaths gave her enough concern to push it open.
Severus Snape sat on the toilet, his skin ghostly white and shining with a sheen of sweat. He was panting in rhythmic gasps and his brow was furrowed in pain. His eyes flew open when he heard the door open, and Hermione was certain if looks could kill, she'd be dead on the floor.
"GET OUT!" he bellowed at her, and she fled.
* * *
Hermione burst through the entryway to the dining hall, startling Draco, although through her tears and anger she didn't even know he was there until he spoke.
"Good afternoon," he said blithely. "Tea?" he asked, and a teacup and plate of sandwiches appeared across from him.
She started and spun around, wand brandished in defence. He held his hands up in supplication. "I simply offered you a traditional English beverage that I'm quite certain you've had before."
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry," she said, swiping angrily at her eyes. "I didn't see you there."
"Clearly," he drawled, sounding so much like his father she looked about the room for the elder Malfoy, who was nowhere to be found. "But may I remind you, this is my house."
She went to glower at him, but his eyes were not mocking her. He held out a hand, indicating she should sit. When she did, he waved his wand and the chair behind him righted itself. She registered this with some surprise as he sat down and resumed his meal.
"When did the chair fall down?" she asked him, surprised she hadn't heard it crash to the ground.
"Ah, well . . . when you burst in here as if the Dark Lord were chasing you. I assume he was not, else you'd have mentioned it by now?"
She did have the good grace and remaining sense of humour to snigger bitterly at that. "No," she answered, privately thinking she'd almost prefer that to what had happened. Almost. Voldemort she'd seen defeated; Snape, however, was another matter.
A few minutes passed in uncomfortable silence. When no explanation was forthcoming and Draco had finished his sandwich, he delicately wiped his mouth and pushed the plate away. "So. What's eating you?"
"Professor Snape," she muttered, nibbling at a crust of bread just to appear polite. She had no appetite at all.
"Hm," Draco grunted non-committally. "What has he done?"
"Nothing," Hermione said, shaking her head and waving her hand dismissively. "He's awake."
Draco raised his eyebrows at that. "Yes, I know that. He's been awake for several weeks now."
"No . . . I mean . . ." she stuttered, then realised how stupid the entire thing sounded and sighed. "Forget it."
"I somehow doubt that Severus merely being conscious would cause you to stampede down the steps like a herd of wild Abraxans. If that entry had a door, I'm quite certain it would have flown off its hinges."
She sighed again. "He needed the loo."
He continued to look at her. Clearly, that wasn't an explanation at all. "And? He does that at least four times a da- . . . wait," Draco said as a flicker of understanding dawned. "Is this the first time he's asked you to take him?"
She nodded miserably and Draco scoffed derisively. She even thought she heard him murmur "git" under his breath. "All right," he said in a resigned tone. "So I take it he got irritated when you helped him?"
"He was irritated all day!" she squawked. "And yes, he was irritated when he asked me to help him to the bathroom, and he was irritated when he asked for his wand, and he was irritated when he kept me from entering the bathroom with him, and he was irritated when he slammed the door in my face!"
Draco's eyes flew open. "You didn't go in there with him?"
"He wouldn't let me!" she insisted. "He slammed the door in my face!"
"Hermione," Draco protested, looking well and truly alarmed. "He can't walk!"
"I KNOW!" she pleaded with him, wide-eyed. "But what was I supposed to do, cast a divesting charm from the opposite side of the door?"
He inclined his head, conceding the point. Although Draco had truly adored Snape as Head of House, he was able to detach himself to acknowledge that the man definitely had a very prickly temper. "I still don't understand why that caused you to run down here in such a state."
She sat back in her chair, grateful that he wasn't challenging her, at least. "Well, you know, I got kind of concerned about him after a while. And, um . . . well, I know you've shopped at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," she hedged. "Are you familiar with their Extendable Ears?"
"I saw them, but I know spells, so . . ." he said, shrugging.
"Okay, well, I have one. In my bag. And I slipped it under the door, you know, to make sure he was all right."
"Mmmhm?"
"And I wouldn't have been upset if I'd heard him in the bath or the shower or something, but he sounded like he was having trouble breathing, and he sounded like he was in pain, so I opened the door."
"And?"
She blinked at him. "He screamed at me to get out. I'm surprised they didn't hear him at Hogwarts. Quite honestly, I'm truly surprised you didn't hear him."
Draco shook his head. "The rooms have good sound insulation. We can cast listening spells if we have a need; my parents did on my room when I was a child, for example, but otherwise, you could use an Erumpent horn as a battering ram upstairs, and we wouldn't hear it."
"Oh," she said, not sure what to make of that.
"So where is he now?" Draco asked.
"Um. I dunno," she replied in a small voice. "I left, like he asked. Probably still in the bathroom?"
Draco slapped himself in the forehead, heaving a long-suffering sigh. He drummed his fingers on the table for a few beats, and sighed again shaking his head. He glanced at Hermione, and then off into the garden, rapping the table with his knuckles. "You know, I ought to just leave him there," he snarled darkly, shaking his head again. He turned back to Hermione. "Look. I'm not going to insult you or myself and my family by trying to make excuses for his behaviour, because it's been reprehensible. But do yourself a favour and don't take it personally."
"'Don't take it personally'!" she scoffed. "Now that's a joke. He's reasonable to everybody but me!"
He nodded. "I know. And it's inexcusable. But look: my parents are older than him, and they were senior to him in the Death Eaters for most of their time. They knew him as a child. Severus knew me, and took care of me, when I was in nappies. We're effectively his family; he doesn't have any left of his own. But there are two things he simply cannot abide, and that is to be indebted to someone, and for someone to see him weak. And now he's indebted to someone who's seen him weak. And it's not as if he had all that gregarious of a personality in the first place."
"It's not my fault!" she protested. "I'm just trying to help him!"
"That's what the problem is," Draco explained. "He's already got a life-debt to you, and he probably sees your continued assistance as compounding the insult. And right on the verge of being truly free for the first time in his life."
"He doesn't owe me a life-debt!" Hermione protested. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
Draco studied her for a moment. "You brought him here, Hermione. My father couldn't do it, and only the two of you knew he was alive. By the time my father could have gone for help on foot and returned with someone, Severus would have died."
"Well, I didn't want the stupid life-debt in the first place!" she snorted mulishly.
"Be that as it may, your desire for it or your knowledge of it — or lack thereof, in this case — is immaterial. It's there, and Severus knows about it."
"He can just have it back, then!" she declared.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione."
"What? Why?"
"Because . . . those things can be useful."
"I. Don't. Want. It!" she insisted. "Do you know how I can release him from it?"
Draco looked at her carefully, considering his words. "I know there's a way, but I don't know how. All I know is it involves black manganese."
"Right," she said, standing up which caused him to do the same. "I'll make a note of that and see if I can find an apothecary that carries it."
"Hermione," Draco called to her as she turned to leave. "On behalf of my family, I do humbly apologise for the treatment you've received in our home." His expression appeared genuinely contrite.
"It's not your fault," she said. "You and your parents have been wonderful to me."
He shook his head. "What is done in my home is done in my name," he stated with conviction.
She merely nodded, accepting his apology, which she felt wholly unnecessary anyway. "Draco?" she said softly. "I really don't think it's a good idea for me to remain as one of his caregivers. I just don't think it's good for him. And I know it's not good for me."
"I know," he replied. "I'm going up there now. You don't have to stay with him any more, but of course you can stay here at the Manor if you want. Father mentioned something about your parents?"
"Yeah," Hermione sad sadly. Clearly, Snape was not going to help her, and it seemed unlikely that Lucius was being falsely modest about his abilities. She was beginning to wonder if it would be better to leave them, blissfully happy and ignorant, on the other side of the world, rather than risk permanent brain damage. "Um, Draco?"
"Hm?"
"I was . . . I had a book upstairs that I was reading, along with my bag. It's from your library."
"All right. Mother was going to relieve you, I believe?" When she nodded, he continued. "If you're going to stay, and I think you should, either she or I will bring everything to you. In the meantime, will you be all right in the library?"
She leveled a look at him, and he grinned. "Call Doddy if you need anything. Our esteemed guest," he said with dripping sarcasm and rolling eyes, "has been left to his own insufficient means long enough."
* * *
Hermione spent the next several days in the extensive Malfoy family library, poring over books. She was desperate to find out something that explained how to release someone from a life-debt, and was convinced she needed to release Snape from his before she could even begin to discuss her parents with him.
She finally found the one that Draco had referred to, in what she considered an unlikely place. She didn't even care to contemplate how an apparently French family of Norman origin had come across a Middle Eastern text. At least none of the ingredients were difficult to come by, although she felt the process was unnecessarily complex.
While Although she was free to come and go as she pleased, Hermione still wanted to avoid questioning and snuck out of the Malfoy home several hours before she had to be in Hogsmeade. She needed to be sure she would arrive without being detained, and would rather be there early and have to wait a few hours, rather than late and have to wait a whole year. She didn't think she could stand Snape's behaviour for another year. She wasn't sure she'd be able to stand it another week, and she wasn't even seeing him regularly.
All her paranoia paid off, though; she arrived in Hogsmeade unmolested and picked her way carefully to the Shrieking Shack and looked around.
She crept into the Shack and looked around. The large puddle of blood on the floor had dried into an ominous black mass. Despite its macabre presence, she was glad to see it. The biggest problem with this spell was that it required some of Snape's blood. Despite how badly she wanted to punch the man on the nose, she didn't think the Malfoys would appreciate that very much, and she knew better than to ask him to surrender some of his own volition. Fortunately, it didn't call for fresh blood, and she had realised she'd be able to perform the spell in the Shack, which suited her just fine. Nobody was likely to bother her therein the first place.
However, before she carefully unpacked her bag, she cast a series of charms. Repellent, Disillusionment, Do-Not-Notice, and security among them. She couldn't afford to be disturbed, and there were parts of it that she definitely didn't want to be caught doing. The next order of business was to select her work area so she could unpack and begin the ritual sweeping. She couldn't deny it was necessary; there was grime everywhere.
She placed her new size one gold cauldron in what was closest to the centre of the puddle, and tried to suppress the flashbacks that coursed through her rebellious mind. Apparently, the magical energy in the Shack still thought Snape had died, which she supposed wasn't all that unreasonable a conclusion, given that she and Lucius had been quite convinced he was dead, too.
She pulled out the rest of her materials and grabbed a sheaf of grain she'd harvested from the golden waves swaying in the late summer breeze on the east side of the Malfoys property. Why the Malfoy family had barley and wheat fields on their estate, she had no idea. Nor did she have any idea why they had so many fruit trees, although she supposed the vineyards made sense, given how frequently they served wine at meals.
Once her work area was swept, she stepped off to the side, doffed all her clothing and poured a cold bottle of moon-charged dew over her body to get rid of any of the dust. She then unbound the sheaf she'd used for sweeping; it had been bound with a long cord of hydrangea and knotgrass, which she coiled around her workspace.
The paste she had to smear all over her naked body next still puzzled her. She understood the ritual significance of the dates and figs, but the legend behind the powdered black manganese seemed to predate the publication of the book. In any case, the paste was disgustingly thick and sweet, and she couldn't wait to get it off her skin, and hoped she could do it before the local insect population took much of an interest in her. She was only able to spread the paste at all because she'd been permitted to add olive oil to it, and she'd had to procure that by squashing some olives. Nothing in this spell could be prepared by anyone by Hermione. She was sure the paste would leave her skin an unbecoming shade of grey, but was beyond caring.
As midnight approached, she lit the hydrangea and knotgrass, murmuring some ancient words of release.
With the same flame she lit her cauldron, and began an infusion of fresh marigold leaves mixed with thulite juice. She hoped to never have to juice a gemstone again — her hands were still sore. While that was steeping, she used the sharpened tip of her silver dagger to scrape some of Snape's blood from the cleanest part of the floor. She weighed the red powder carefully on her balance, and eyed the progression of the fulcrum carefully. When she thought it reached the right amount, she replaced the scalepan and sharply pricked her finger with the dagger, allowing the same weight of her own fresh blood to accumulate in the new pan.
She stirred Snape's powdered blood into her own liquid blood and then used her wand to siphon it into the infusion.
At midnight exactly, she lit her wand used it to cast symbols in the air in front of her. While she did so, she chanted a spell in the same ancient tongue she'd used when setting fire to the hydrangea and knotgrass, and then downed the steaming potion.
Now all she had to do was wash this disgusting paste from her body.
She chose to go to her parents home that night. Even though they weren't there, she really didn't care for the Malfoys to know what she had been up to.