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A Snape/Hermione fic.

Chapter Five.

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Disclaimer: See Ch. 1

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A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews, I'm glad you guys are still enjoying this story.

Not much to say about this one ... let's just see where it goes!

I hope you guys enjoy reading this, I know I'll love writing it!

As always, please read and review, I live for feedback!

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Samantha carefully opened the door to the bedroom she'd been sequestered in, made slightly difficult by the socks on her hands. Her feet squeaked a little inside her boots, beads of sweat making them slide along the soles. She scrunched her toes up inside the boots, willing them into silence. She slid slowly, very slowly, out of the room and into a hallway, blinking her eyes against the light. She'd spent the last hour training them to see with what little light she could muster under the door, the brightness was nearly overwhelming.

Her heart was pounding near explosion, despite several steadying breaths. Get outside, find help. That's all you have to do, Samantha. Get outside, find help.

Toes still balled up in her shoes, Samantha crept slowly down the hallway, eyes moving back and forth and up and down. Photos decorated the short hallway, unmoving. It's a muggle house, she realized, curious at what that meant.

A voice from ahead made her stop dead in the hallway.

"You and your filthy muggle family are just the start. I will pick up where he left off. I'll make our world what it should have been before people like you started producing mudblood's like her." His voice made Samantha's skin crawl.

"Please, don't hurt her," a woman's voice whimpered, sounding strained and terrified. The voice was familiar. "She's just a child."

A sick laugh followed the woman's plea. "You think I would hurt my own flesh and blood. She's mine, and now that I have her, she'll be raised the proper wizard way. I'll cast all of your filthy muggle blood out of her, and she will be pure. Together, we will cure the mudblood disease that has butchered our heritage."

"You're insane," came another man's voice, followed by a hard thump and a howl of pain.

"Stop it!" the woman shrieked. Her voice was so familiar ...

Samantha looked at the photos on the walls, scanning their faces. She didn't recognize the man, but the woman ... she didn't see her often, but she knew her well enough that sadness welled up in her chest at the thought of that madman hurting her. And there, two pictures down from the one she was looking at, was her mother's face. This was a muggle house, alright. It belonged to her grandparents.

Get outside, find help ... except it was a muggle neighborhood. If she went for help, they would just call the muggle police. Sirens and guns would do nothing against magic. And if she ran ... he would surely kill her grandmother. She couldn't run, but she also couldn't save the other two without her wand. She needed a distraction.

She slowly slid the sock off her right hand, keeping the other on the left, covering her own acid wound. She stuck her hand into the satchel of acid, coating the sock. She tried not to think about what would happen if it soaked through the material of the sock. Forcing as much of the fear out of her head as she could, she urged her legs down the remainder of the hallway and walked into the room.

The man who'd abducted her had his fist raised, about to strike her grandmother's husband. She didn't really know the man, and even though some part of her felt like he deserved it, she couldn't just watch him get beaten by a madman. Samantha cleared her throat, and immediately all eyes were on her.

"Sam ..." her grandmother gasped, sadness in her eyes.

"Who said you could come out here?" the madman asked, anger flashing through his dark eyes. He pulled his fist away from the other man, allowing him to slump to the ground.

Samantha opened her mouth, forcing the lie to come out smooth, innocent. "I wanted to see you. Talk to you. You're -" she remembered the freckles they shared, and forced the lump out of her throat, "you're like me."

His face almost softened, and he took a step towards her. "You're like me," he agreed, but from his lips it sounded vile, infected. Like a curse in itself. "Everything pure inside you came from me."

"You said you were my father," Samantha spoke, wishing it weren't true. This had to be some sick nightmare. "That Sev- that he wasn't."

The man snarled at the mere words. "Of course that traitor isn't your father. He'll pay for what he's done."

Everything within Samantha wanted to run at him screaming, but she forced herself to remain still, letting him come to her, putting more space between him and the others. She glanced briefly at her grandmother, who was pale and petrified. "And them?"

"They'll pay for their crimes soon enough."

"Crimes?"

"It's because of people like them that mudbloods exist. They should be sterilized, the lot of them. We'll make a new world, you and I. Without them." He raised his wand, pointing it Jean Granger.

"Wait," Samantha whispered, jerking forward.

He turned the wand on her, tilting his head. "Mind yourself, girl. You've had to live your life away from my care, so I can tolerate a little resistance. But I will put you in your place by force if need be."

Samantha swallowed carefully, keeping the fear from her eyes. "No, it's just ... I want to help."

"Samantha, no," her grandmother moaned.

She made herself look right at him, past his freckles and right into his eyes. She forced all the questions out of her mind, hoping there would time later to sort everything out. "They're not my family, I know that. They're ... wrong. They should be stopped," she told him, stepping a little closer. "I want to help you. I want to know you. Please?"

He regarded her for a long moment, sizing her eyes. His eyes dropped to her sock-covered hand, and she forced herself not to hide it from view. "What's that?"

"I hurt my hand," she replied smoothly. "I didn't have my wand to fix it, so I just covered it."

Adjusting his grip on his wand, he asked carefully, "Shall I fix it for you?"

"After," she told him, lifting her chin, wanting him to think she was trying to impress him. "First, can I help you ... with them?"

He pursed his lips, staring her down. Seconds ticked by like hours, and she could feel sweat dripping down her neck, but forced herself to appear calm.

"I want to know more about you," she told him. "I want to know why everything has been a lie. I want to know where I come from. Let me help you, and then we can go."

Slowly his wand lowered, and he smirked at her. "You are like me," he breathed, the smirk growing into a smile.

Samantha walked closer to him, forcing herself to smile back. When she was in front of him, she brought her bare hand up to his face. He twitched a little, but stilled when she touched his cheek, stroking his freckles. They were just like hers. His eyes, his lips, even the shape of his face were different, but the freckles ... they were her freckles. He was, by blood at least, her father. A tear slipped from her eye, and he reached a hand up to brush it away. The hand holding his wand remained at his side. She smiled through her tears, bringing her other hand up, resting her wrist on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his lanky body.

"My child," he whispered into her hair. "You're my child. Just like me."

Samantha gripped the back of his robes with her bare hand, sniffling into his shoulder. "With a little mudblood thrown in there," she commented, pushing her socked hand against his face, aiming for his eyes.

He struggled against her, and then let loose a terrible scream. Samantha held on as long as she could, forcing the battery acid into his eyes, up his nose, even against his shrieking lips. New tears stained her face at his animalistic cries, but she held on tight.

When he finally threw her off of him, he started clawing at his face in desperation, his face red from the acid and his screaming.

Samantha crawled towards her grandmother, who could only stare at her in shock. "Where's my wand?"

Jean Granger opened and closed her mouth, staring at the sock on her granddaughter's hand. "Battery acid," she explained, "where's my wand?"

"I-in his r-robes!" she shrieked finally, holding a hand over her mouth and reaching for her husband.

She knew there was no safe way to get her wand back, so Samantha reached into her pocket for the scissors she'd grabbed from the room. "Come on, we have to go now."

"NO!" the man shrieked, waving his wand around the room, unable to see them. "You're not going anywhere!" He began shooting spells out of his wand at random, striking the walls, an aquarium, bookshelves.

Samantha ducked down, avoiding the blasts from his wand. He couldn't see her, but she knew eventually he'd either hit them by luck, or figure out a way to unblind himself. When that happened, they were done for. She began crawling across the floor towards him.

Jean grabbed for her legs. "Samantha, no, he'll kill you!"

Samantha kicked her hands off, shushing her and pushing forward. Flashes of red light shot all around the room as he fired blindly. She stayed low until she was close enough to him to do what she needed to do. She gripped the scissors tightly in her hands, careful to avoid getting stepped on as he whipped and whirled around. She raised the scissors, taking aim. Seconds ticked by, and she couldn't bring her arm down. Somehow, this seemed worse than the acid. Dammit, Samantha, you're the daughter of two of the best Slytherins and Gryffindors to come out of Hogwarts. Just do it!

Squeezing her eyes shut, she thrust the scissors into his leg.

He roared even louder than before, dropping his wand as he clawed at his leg. Samantha lunged for the wand, rolling away as soon as she had it in her grasp. She turned it towards him, but before she could utter a spell, he'd thrown himself on top of her.

"No!" she screamed as she desperately tried to hold onto the wand. Sparks shot out of the end, less deadly than his previous attacks.

"Give it to me!" he snarled, wrenching the wand away from her.

His strength outmatched hers, even writhing in agony. She tried to press her sock-covered hand against his face again, but he gripped her wrist and squeezed. She heard the bone snap before she felt it, and screeched loudly in his ear. The room exploded. Books flew off shelves, china burst from sealed cases, and furniture flung itself around the room. Item after item pelted his back, legs, arms, and head, until he was forced to let her go to cover himself.

Samantha backed away, ripping the sock off her hand, cradling the broken wrist against her chest. Pain mixed with fear inside her, forcing her into survival mode. She screamed louder, and the couches and chairs lifted off the ground. Photographs fell from the walls, glass shattering and raising to swirl in a tornado of shards. The windows in the living room burst, glass blowing outwards only to sweep back in and join the fray. A loud crack! came from somewhere in the house, but she ignored it. All she could focus on was keeping him away from her.

"Samantha!" a voice called out, and suddenly her mother was in front of her. Dobby was crouched beside her, wide eyes gazing down at her worriedly. "Samantha, it's okay, I'm here now. You can stop."

Behind her, a whirlwind of glass surrounded her captor, gaining speed with every second. He was trapped in a vortex of broken glass, doomed to either be torn apart by the shards, or suffocate. The pain in her wrist throbbed, and she wanted the glass to hurt him like he'd hurt her.

"Sammy, I'm here. It's okay," Hermione told her, cradling her daughter's face in her hands, forcing her eyes away from the man who'd raped her all those years ago. "He's not going to hurt you anymore. Just calm down, Sweetie."

Samantha stared into her mother's face. No freckles. Severus didn't have freckles either. 11 years old, and they'd never told her.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's go home. You're okay. Just calm down. Let's go home."

Home. Hogwarts. Where she'd grown up. Where she was happy ... safe. Home.

Slowly she allowed herself to calm down, at least as much as she could.

Hermione stroked her daughter's face, holding her gaze as the room settled. Furniture dropping back to the ground safely. The swirling glass behind her fell to the ground, like icicles falling from eaves. "It's okay, Sweetie. He won't hurt you anymore."

"Don't bet on it, Mudblood," he croaked, pulling Samantha's wand out from inside his robes. He aimed the wand at them, able to make out their shapes well enough to do his worst

"Avada Ked-" He never got the chance to finish. A bright burst of light struck his chest, and what little strength he'd had left vanished. His hand hit the ground, Samantha's wand falling from his lifeless grip.

They looked towards the doorway to see Severus holding his wand out, cool hatred glowing in his eyes.

The room was deadly silent, as the three magical people in the room came to grips with the madman's death. The spell of silence was broken by Mr. Granger's groans of pain. Jean gripped his hand, glancing between Hermione and Samantha. "He j-just burst in w-with her and at-t-acked us! He would have killed us!"

"It's okay, Mum. We're all going to be okay."

"The house ..." Paul croaked. "She's ruined the house."

"Paul! We nearly died! She saved your life!" Mrs. Granger stared at her husband like he was a stranger.

"Magic ... more magic. Always magic. Get out," he spat, pushing himself as far away from them as he could. "Get out, and stay out. Stay away from us, all of you!"

Hermione wanted to yell and scream and smack him, but she couldn't even let go of her daughter. "Severus ..." she breathed.

Her husband reacted immediately, pointing his wand at the elder Granger.

"Wait, please," Jean began.

"Obliviate."

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Madame Pomfrey wanted to keep Samantha in the Hospital Wing overnight to be safe. Minerva arranged to have their classes covered for a few days until everything had settled down. Samantha was sleeping now, the trauma of her abduction and injuries taking its toll with the help of a potion for dreamless sleep. Molly and Arthur were watching Sylas and Sarine, allowing Hermione and Severus to stay with Samantha. Neither wanted to let her out of their sight again.

"What are we going to do, Severus?"

He glanced down at his wife tucked against his chest. "We take it slow, let her talk about it when she's ready."

Hermione shook her head. "I mean, what are we going to tell her about him? When she asks why he took her? I can't lie to her. Before it was just ... not telling her. Now ... I can't lie to her, but I can't tell her the truth. I can't break her heart like that."

"I'm her father, Hermione," Severus assured her. "In every way that counts. We'll figure out the rest."

Hermione watched her daughter sleep, wishing she could take back the last day. She'd never let her go off by herself, ever. "She's going to hate me."

"Shh," Severus whispered, kissing her forehead. "It's going to be okay. We've got her back, that's all that matters."

Hermione hoped he was right. She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to Samantha. Never again.

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End of chapter five.

I'm not going to promise that I'll update quick, because we know how much my promises are worth. If you've stuck with this story all these years, thank you, you're awesome.

If you're a newcomer, please know that I do want to finish this story, but work makes it hard for me to update any of my fics frequently.

Reviews are appreciated, flame if you must, but constructive criticism is much more useful.