Hermione stumbled as she landed, Snape caught her nimbly as he reached out to wrap his arm around her waist. She leaned into him, turning to press her forehead to his chest as she gathered herself. He let her take a settling breath and she was grateful that he did not expect any explanation from her. He seemed to understand all too well how overwhelmed she was. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, breathing in her scent as his arms snaked around her, holding her closer. "Well done," his voice was a warm rumble against her hair, his chest resonating. "You managed to confuse every single person in that room. Tell me, Madam, did you use unjust magic to confound your foes?"
She huffed a laugh into the wool of his coat, her hands coming up to grip the dark fabric. "I hardly needed to, I had a very helpful senior Auror by my side.
She lifted her chin to look up at him, his hand rising from her waist to push back her curls from her face. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, the slightest of touches, as his mouth found hers. Her fingers tightened against his chest and his heart squeezed. His. She was all his.
"Someone better explain to me what the bloody hell is going on!"
Hermione groaned, turning to look at her friend. She had forgotten he had followed along. It was going to be an interesting conversation.
Sterope seemed to get the lead on things and lifted a well-manicured hand to deliver a swift slap! to the back of Harry's head.
He let out a startled cry and rubbed the spot she had hit. "Gods, no one's done that since I was in school. You two really are all too similar."
The witch raised a brow and glared at him. "Insolent," came the sharp reply. She smirked at the cowed expression on his face as he winced. "Honestly, Potter, show some respect. Your dearest friend has just faced trial for saving a criminal excused of all charges. The least you could do is give her a moment of respite. What are they teaching you these days in that program?"
The boy who lived eyed her warily, though he squinted. "Not sure, you'll have to take it up with my superior."
Her lips pressed into a hard line and her hand raised again, though this time, Sterope flipped his crimson robes over his head. In the confusion, she swiped out her foot and cackled as his legs flew out from under him.
Landing unceremoniously on his rear, Harry waved his arms frantically as he tried to free himself from all the fabric constricting him. "Oi, what was that for?"
"The difference, Mr Potter, is that I am not an upstanding Hogwarts professor and can do as I please." She threw her head back as she laughed, earning a similar reaction from Hermione. Even the Potions' Master could not hold back a smile.
Still giggling, Hermione tried to catch her breath as an overly red-faced Harry Potter broke free from his cloth prison. "I see what you mean about her sense of humour."
He scowled, brushing the dirt off his robes as he stood. "Absolutely hilarious," he muttered sarcastically. Looking around him, he frowned. "Where are we, anyway?"
Since their arrival, Hermione had not taken note of her surroundings, having been too distracted by her thoughts. She glanced about quickly, noting that they were in the middle of what appeared to be an empty wheatfield.
She looked up at her husband questioningly, though he had turned his attention to the other woman. A frown knit his brows and his lips curled downward. "Why have you brought us here?" He snarled.
Sensing his temper flare, the witch in his arms leaned further into him, her hands flat on his chest. She stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, bracing herself against him out of habit from her time dealing with a rampaging Ron. Seeing her shift her body before him to take the brunt of his anger, he let out a slow breath. He had not expected that from his little witch. Though, he ought not to have been surprised. Ronald Weasley had become a brute of a man. The former Head of Slytherin had seen him manhandle Hermione on more than one occasion in the past. He clenched his jaw and released it slowly. She would not be subjected to anything of the sort ever again.
His sister looked around her, confused by his ire and she blanched. "Oh, Merlin," she swore. "I don't know. It was the first place I could think of."
Harry had walked off, trying to get his bearing on where they could possibly be. He spotted a building further down the way and scratched the back of his head. "Hey, Shafiq?" He called, turning toward her. "This wouldn't be Prince Manor, would it? I thought the Ministry had seized it aeons ago. I read the file just the other day."
Sterope was still pale as death and she swallowed thickly. "Well, they'll know we've been on the premises," she managed, her voice shaking as she met her brother's eyes. "Any interest in paying the family a visit?"
The man's face was one of Death itself as he stared her down. "No choice now, is there, Sterope?" His voice was too calm and quiet compared to the rippling of magic surrounding him. It was electric and just on the verge of lashing out. Something powerful and dark. Severus Snape was a dangerous wizard. Hermione would never doubt it, though she trusted he would never purposely unleash such power onto her.
A curl of magic left him and shot toward the other woman, hitting her square in the chest and making her fly back several feet. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. Her eyes were shut tightly as she gasped hard. Rolling onto her stomach, she wheezed and coughed. Harry ran toward her, helping her stand, his wand gripped tight in his hand as he shifted her behind him.
Noble, senseless Harry. There was no reason he should endanger himself by standing between them. But he had faced off with Snape before, and clearly, not landing arse over tea kettle had done little to humble him.
Hermione had half a mind to warn him, though there was a booming crack like thunder just then. The ground shook beneath their feet and she nearly lost her balance. Snape spun around quickly and another hex left his fingers, though it dissipated into smoke before it found its target.
A tall, sickly thin figure stood before them. The woman was dressed in all black, her grey-streaked raven hair pulled back tight at her nuque, there was a silver pin on the high collar at her throat. She had sharp, onyx eyes that scanned the people before her, finally coming to rest on the Potions' Master. "Now, now, Severus," she chided, her severe features a stark contrast to the honey in her tone. "Is that any way to greet your mother?"
