A/N: This is transfer from another site. The story is 30 chapters long, 111842 words.

FrancineHibiscus, 1les93 Thank you for commenting.

WARNING: Story is dark(ish), twisted with sexually explicit content (BDSM, same-sex scenes, etc.), I URGE YOU to READ WARNINGS at each chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

04.02.2018.

This story finally has a beta. I'll replace existing chapters with edited ones as she finishes them.

Also, I'll edit Author Notes as we progress (some of it is not needed anymore :)

Big, big THANK YOU to my beta Holdt - she is not writing for HP but you can check out her work, her writing is amazing :)

CHAPTER WARNING: Explicit sex scenes, non-con (Female attacking male). And snarkiness in general.

Lost

Harry ruffled his hair, dragging fingers through it. With a heavy sigh he looked at Ron, then Kingsley and then again at Ron. A frown knitted his brows.

"I don't know Ron, that does not sound like a plan."

"We are running out of the options, and she's still missing." Ron sounded desperate.

"I cannot approve search parties, Potter; however, I can assign reward for an independent contractor, provided he finds her and persuades her to come back." Kingsley's voice sounded tired but stern.

"There are no guarantees."

"Harry, please. Only two persons on this world know where to find him." In the background, Kingsley cleared his throat "Ok… Three," grumbled Ron. "Maybe I don't trust him, and certainly, I don't like him, but…I won't deny his skills."

"Ron, you know that I want to find her as much as you do, but—"

"Harry."

"Even, even if I go to him with a proposition…there are no guarantees that he will say yes. In all honesty, most likely he'll refuse, flat out."

"At least try it, please. If not for me, then for her. If he says no, we won't consider him as an option anymore, if he says yes what do we have to lose? If he accepts, he will find her, I know it."

"We are talking about Snape, Ron…"

"I know, I don't like it either - no more than you do, but he's our best bet. Besides, he just should use his skills to track her down and bring her back, by any means necessary. What can go wrong with that?"

"I don't know, Ron… I'll see what I can do." Harry sighed.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Life was better—not great—but he was getting there, albeit slowly. Nightmares did not haunt him so often anymore. He could get a night or two of a good rest, without taking sleeping pills. Yes, sleeping pills - Muggle medicine, not the potion. Oh, he could still brew, he just chose not to do it; that way everything was so much easier for him.

Three years after the war, Severus was living in a small countryside cottage, in a muggle area, as a muggle. He missed the magic, but thinking logically, he didn't wish to hide and live on the run, or be forced to defend himself from curses thrown at him left and right. Ministry awarded medals are one thing, and reality, something entirely different. In this case, 'different' meant outcast, traitor - on both sides. On the fingers of one hand, he could count the number of people who didn't want him dead.

Two years ago, he severed most of his connections to the magical community, two years he hadn't had almost any contact with the wizarding world. To live from the so-called, 'hero' pension in the wizarding world would mean scraping to meet the month's end, but to live from the same amount of galleons, turned into a Muggle money…that was a decent living, not rich, but comfortable. His home was hidden, placed under a Fidelus charm, unregistered; only three persons know where he lives, and they left him alone…out of respect, as they said.

In all honesty, there was nothing to complain about. He wasn't lacking anything, and he did have everything he needed - food, shelter, his books and oddly enough, even women. Yes, Muggle women found him attractive, strange as that might seem. For muggles, the Dark Mark was just a tattoo. A brilliantly fashioned tattoo, the testimony of his rebellious past, which complemented his dark, brooding look. He never told them anything about himself, but they knitted their stories around him. The more he appeared enigmatic and mysterious to them, the more they wanted him, even if it was only for one night, and he took advantage of it.

Purged by death, or near death in his case.

By which miracle he wasn't dead when they came to collect his body he wasn't sure. The gash on his throat was still oozing blood, replenishing itself constantly; he'd made the shack's floor look a bloodbath of epic proportions. Healers knitted his wounds with needle and thread, using the Muggle way. They stopped his blood from reproducing rapidly. But purging the venom from his system…he wished they'd let him die. Months and months of pure, highly concentrated agony. The pain was far greater than anything he'd experienced before, as if something was trying to burn him alive from within.

When the pain was gone, he was free - in more ways than one. For the first time in his life, he felt that all his debts were paid; there was no more guilt, no more love, no more of anything he'd felt during the majority of his life. He was blank.

Then, the trials started, and they hauled him to Azkaban. In his state of emptiness, he was a tabula rasa, he looked almost catatonic while others defended or attacked him. Against all odds, Wizengamot set him free, of course, Potter (with help of Granger and Lovegood) played a key role at his trial. Still, he didn't owe anything to anyone anymore, not even to the Potter.

A life for a life.

At the first chance he got, he arranged everything and moved here. He was finally free.

Golden liquid was sloshing in a tumbler. Thursday. Evie will be in the club and tonight he might just get her. A smirk danced on his lips, every now and then he would indulge in a hunt. The girl liked him. Wanted him. She was also reluctant to give in to her desire. He was known in the club, known that he never bedded the same woman twice, and she obviously wanted more.h, it was fun to pretend, to play the part, but tonight he would go for the kill. The thought propelled him from the chair, guiding him to the bedroom. Placing the tumbler on the nightstand, he opened the cabinet, thinking of all the moments in which she would be more engaged to seduce him.

"What does sweet Evie like?" he mumbled. "Black jeans and… Ah yes, this." He pulled out the tight black turtleneck and black boots. "Now, what to do with the hair?" He decides that he won't tie it up tonight - the girl loved to play with his hair. Snape grinned again. His hair was much longer now, reaching halfway down his back. Now he was not constantly exposed to fumes from cauldrons, and with a bit of help from Muggle shampoos, his hair was soft and silky. "So, tonight."

Picking up the tumbler and leaving the garments on the bed, he strolled back to the living room. Yes, life was getting better. He took the book from the tea-table and continued to read. He did enjoy Muggle literature and at the moment he indulged himself with the works of Victor Hugo.

The sharp knocking was so unexpected that he nearly jumped at the sound, but just for the moment. Probably Mrs Ramsbury needs sugar or something similar. His neighbour was notorious for borrowing things; it appeared to him that she needed to borrow something every time her husband was away. He toyed with her with enjoyment, flirting by using double meanings and insinuations, playing naïve. Of course, he took good care whom he seduced None of his conquests lived in his village - after all, he had to live there. Faking a polite, and slightly lustful smile, he opened the door. He smile froze on his face before it disappeared completely, replaced with a mask of severe disapproval.

"Potter?"

"Hello, Sir, may I enter? What I have to say…" Potter uncomfortable glanced around.

"What an unpleasant surprise. Do come in, state your business and leave. Ah, for the record, the answer to your question - whatever that might be - is I refuse." Grudgingly he let the young man in the house.

Potter followed him to the living room, sitting on the edge of the armchair and looking extremely uncomfortable. Snape had no desire to make him feel welcomed, nurturing the unpleasant situation. He was standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded on his chest and a strict expression. He did not offer any refreshment and he didn't attempt to speak. From experience, he knew the more uncomfortable people felt the sooner they would seek a reason to leave. Potter blushed over his forehead and cheeks and started to speak slowly.

"I told Kingsley and Ron that you will refuse, but I must—well, I have at least to say it to you, you understand Sir?" Snape nodded and Potter continued. "Ministry appointed me to offer you a, a task of sorts. A rescue mission, to be exact. You see Sir, it's been two years since…since Hermione went missing…and…"

"Is Miss Granger missing? How on earth have you and Weasley managed to survive without a brain that long?" The young man blinked. "How is she missing?" Severus walked to the couch and sat, not that he was interested. But… Whom are you seeking to deceive? She saved your skin and your sorry ass…for that, the least you can do is to listen what he has to say.

"Two years ago, more precisely, fifteen days after the party at my home - you know, the one when we celebrated? ell, we all believed that Hermione would go to the Legal Department. Instead, she took her practice at the Artifacts department…" His eyes widened "Oh, no! Not as a Curse Breaker. First, she was at the Archives and later, she went for Retrieval. Well, Hermione... Not that many people noticed, but she wasn't the same after the war."

"No one is, Potter." he drawled.

"I know Sir, but she was…different. Essentially, I don't know how to explain. Restless."

" Did you ever hear about PTSD Potter?"

"I wish it were that simple, Sir."

PTSD, simple? Nothing else can't be expected from Potter, I presume. Warily, he eyed the boy, wondering what was wrong with him, and what the hell was wrong with Granger.

"Anyway, she went on a Retrieval mission, of sorts."

"Of sorts?"

"It was supposed to be a bogus mission, with a certainty of failure. A sort of intervention, to snap her out…"

"You sent a person, with the mindset of a pitbull's jaw, on a bogus mission. Tell me, Potter, was that mission based on a legend, rumour or it was made up?"

"We had to make it plausible…"

"Then, you had to use the legend, something well-documented with the existing trail through the history." Potter nodded "And, if I may ask, whose brilliant mind thought that it was a good idea to send Granger, of all people, to chase after that legend?"

"We did. Ron and I, Sir, that is."

"Do you have any idea how you managed to survive Hogwarts and live long enough to defeat the Dark Lord, Potter? On the other hand, you probably just believe whatever the papers write about you without giving much thought to it."

"Sir, I know that you—"

"Not me, you imbecile!" Potter was and remained an idiot - a blind fool. "First, you wouldn't have been able to pass a year without Miss Granger's help. Second, her brain helped you every step of the way. Her mind and quick thinking. Third, consider her determination and ability to dig up information buried so deep that should not be found ever again. Did you send her to chase - a legend?"

"But legend, Sir—"

"Think carefully what you are going to say next, Potter."

"Yes, you are right - we didn't think at that time at all."

"Did you two ever think, given that you had Miss Granger at your disposal?" He hissed and Potter flinched.

"Well, khm - yes, well, ever since she went to this task, we could not—to get her to come home—"

"You told me she was missing."

"She is! In a manner. We know where she is, we just can't precisely locate her or even if we do… We can't bring her back."

"Interesting…"

"At the beginning, Ron or I or both of us would go. We didn't even see her. She would leave messages for us. Then, we sent Aurors - she is smart, Sir and the last time when Aurors tried to bring her back... We had to do loads of damage control, our Aurors ended up in Muggle jail for the attempt of kidnapping and—"

He started to laugh. Potter just looked at him dumbfounded, blinking.

"Of course, Miss Granger is Muggle-born; she acts like Muggle, probably lives like one too. Aurors, mostly raised in the wizarding world, have a problem fitting in. What I want to know, Potter, if you know where she is now—"

"The Ministry is ready to sign her off," whispered Potter. "Kingsley will grant a reward, and I am willing to personally cover all travel expenses - she is obsessed, Sir."

"Not to mention that you feel guilty for following a bad idea, one from the Weasley's repertoire."

"How did you know?"

"You do not do anything without checking it first with Miss Granger, and - this type of air-headed plan sounds like something Weasley could come up with. Do you know where she is now, or at least her last location?"

"Peru. She is in Peru."

"How the hell? "

"I have no idea, Sir. We chased her across half the globe. Greece, Jordan, Romania, the Himalayas… And now she is in Peru." He was listening with half his attention. "Sir?"

"I'm trying to sort through your story Potter, since your eloquence—or rather, lack of it—have improved significantly since you left Hogwarts. Tell me - how long did she work for the archives in the Artifacts Department before she switched to Retrieval?"

"Ummm, well, yes, I see how my story might sound, but we didn't know at the time - you see, she never went to the Legal Department; she only took your case during the trials. She started her apprenticeship in the archives almost at the same time with your trial, and she advanced to Retrieval approximately at the same time she started her NEWTS."

"And no one detected her missing, for days at the time?"

"We did, but we…"

"You figured she was in the library, because Merlin forbid that either one of you steps in one without dire need."

"Close enough, Sir."

"What did you tell her parents?" Potter looked at the ground. "Potter?"

"The Memory Charm… It was in place for too long Sir."

"Fine, leave the file if you have it. I'll owl you my reply after I think about it." Potter jumped at his feet.

"Thank you, Sir!"

"I did not accept yet, Potter. In addition, I'm not doing this for you or Weasley, If I accept, it will be only so I can tell Granger to her face, what kind of a brainless idiot she is—"

"Sir?"

"For allowing herself to associate with dunderheads like two of you. Now, if you don't mind, kindly get lost." He escorted young man to the door.

"Even so, thank you, Sir."

"Do not thank me yet. Let me ask you a rhetorical question, Potter, did either of you two idiots pay any attention to Granger after she stopped being useful to you?" With that he slammed the door and walked back to the room. On the coffee table rested the thick file folder; he took it and sat in his favourite chair, flicking it open.

Hours later, frowning, he sent Evie an SMS: They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, let us test that theory.

Walking to the aviary, he pinned a scribbled note to the leg of a pigeon and let him fly.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Screams, stone dust and chunks of rocks fly all around her—

Hexes flying around her—

screams—

and more blood…

Hermione sat in bed covered with sweat. Eyes wide and unfocused, voices in her head murmuring disturbingly. She dragged her knees under her chin and hugged them, rocking lightly, tears streamed down her cheeks. The rustling of crumpled paper sounded like thunder in her ears. She continued to rock and cry, humming lightly until she managed to fell asleep again.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

It was almost nine o'clock in the evening when a timid knock on the door echoed through the house. He smiled and flicked his wrist, calling out.

"In the kitchen - I'm coming shortly."

"It is nice to see that you are using magic again," called female voice. He smiled, there was one more person who knew how to find him, and oddly enough, he considered her a… Friend.

"It appears that I'll need it again, at least for a little while."

"To find Hermione?" The sound came from the living room. He grinned, still shuffling around the stove.

"Are you sure you are not a seer?"

"You just insulted all the seers in the world - you left the file on the table."

"Ah. Tell me, what do you know?"

"She is lost."

"That much I could gather from Potter's visit."

"You are not listening to me, Severus." Luna's willowy frame appeared on the door-frame. "I didn't say she is missing; I said that she is lost, here." She pointed at her head. "And here." Luna pointed at her heart.

"Explain it to me. Here you are." He handed her a mug of coffee.

Luna was brilliant, almost as brilliant as Granger, only in a different way. She'd helped Granger prepare his defence, and of the two of them, didn't stayed in Law department. He believed they'd both been discouraged from pursuing careers in law. Those two girls could tear down the world. Luna stayed in contact with him, her dislocated way of thinking and surprisingly vibrant personality helped him through some of the darkest moments he'd had since he moved here and renounced magic.

"She is lonely, so lonely Severus and so lost. I think she is trying to find love more than some obscure artefact."

"What about Weasley?"

"They broke up, long ago."

"I didn't know that. Didn't see that one coming."

"Honestly?" Luna frowned. The sharp edge in her gentle voice stabbed him. Luna had a way of making you feel guilty for saying something stupid. "Can you see them together?" He shrugged, shaking his head. "Well, neither do I. No one with an ounce of brain can see them as a pair, including her. At least, that's what she told me a year ago."

"You've seen her?"

"Yes, we had coffee in Marrakech."

"Potter didn't mention."

"Harry and Ron don't know. I never told them. She is running from them as much as she is looking for - whatever she is looking for."

"Tell me." He handed her the plates.

"I think that curse is finally catching up with her. I know she's doing everything she can to prevent it, but…" Luna trailed off, staring into her meal.

"What curse?"

"The one Bellatrix gave her - the blade had a curse. That's why she ended up in The Artifacts department; she wanted to prevent anything similar from happening ever again. Harry and Ron never even noticed what was happening to her."

"What curse, Luna?"

"Don't know. No one knows. In addition, Fleur healed the flesh wound, so…."

"When did that happen?"

"Thought you knew."

"I would not leave her with a curse if I knew, not after all that she did for me." Luna nodded, her eyes smiled at him with trust

"It happened during the war, the day they rescued me from the Manor. Bellatrix tortured her. No one knew we buried the knife with Dobby, but it disappeared later. She never complained, but her еyеs have changed. In Marrakech, she looked haunted, malnourished. She hardly sleeps - and - she never told me what she's looking for, but she told me that it could help her." Luna took a sip of coffee. "Will you help her?"

"If I find her," Severus answered, realizing that he made his decision.

"Then, I'm glad I came." She looked at him and they laughed. "So, did you manage to get into that girl's panties?"

"That was the plan for tonight." A sly grin crept across his face. "And then Potter came."

"Ah, well she's not going anywhere. That is - if I don't snatch her first."

"What would your husband say to that?"

"May I join," she answered with a grin. There was a good reason why he called Luna his friend.

Oddly enough, he had no qualms at being friends with someone so young, maybe because his life stopped when he was her age.

He had a lot of years to make up.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Cursing the aeroplane and his own stubbornness, Severus clenched his teeth. He hated that feeling when your skin prickles painfully, and ears squeezed with pressure - when your insides travel upwards, just moments before wheels touch the ground. He was the one who insisting on travelling the Muggle way.

"But why that way, when portkey is so much faster?" complained Weasley.

"Because I would monitor portkey arrivals, were I in her place."

"She is not a spy."

"Exactly my point. As a spy, Mr Weasley, you must do things openly, but she is on the run. In addition, Miss Granger has a usable brain."

"But…"

"If you doubt my methods, we still have time to call off everything," he offered, hoping that Weasley was thick enough not to see through his bluff. Luckily, he was…

After the flight, driving in the overcrowded bus, and no—not all the passengers were even human—was… Highly unpleasant. One could only hope to end up with a dislocated kidney and nothing more, and consider himself lucky. Last part of the trip… Who thought that he could ride a - donkey?! A donkey, of all creatures! He could walk faster - which he did, in the end, letting the animal carry his backpack and his camera bag. The blasted thing weighed a ton, but it was necessary.

The hotel is a dump, quite literally. Then again, the whole place is a dump. This couldn't be called a settlement by a long shot - one drinking fountain in the centre of the village, no more than fifteen houses, scattered around a small clearing. Squeezed in the middle of the vast green jungle. One inn and that was all.

If she is still here, won't be too hard to find her. That gives him a bit of peace; she would stick out like a sore thumb. At least, the Granger he knows would. He threw his backpack on the bed, having at the same time a very unpleasant and distinctive flashback of his childhood home. The squealing of the ceiling-fan is annoying; the bloody thing just shuffles stale hot air around, doing nothing to cool down the room.

The bathroom probably never even heard of the word 'sanitary'. I hope she is somewhere in the jungle so I can leave this death trap. Pipes chatter and shake before they release brownish water to flow. Luckily, the water cleaned out after a few spurts and a violent tug of the faucet.

The shower repeated the jig with more force and noise. He was reluctant to use it, but he really needed to take the shower. It was almost dinner time, and he ventured to the inn, taking a potion just in case; food poisoning was not on his list. The small square is livelier at evening. He took a table near the street. If one could call it by that name. He agreed with whatever they offered for food and just observed the surroundings, clicking his Muggle camera few times, just for show.

Well, at least the girls are - appealing. Maybe he could have few conquests here, in his spare time. Focusing his lens on the very attractive young woman that was taking a pitcher of water from the fountain, he nearly jumped when someone placed two glasses and jug of beer on the table

" I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"I did." He jerked his head to meet Granger's gaze. Well, this was fast. "What are you doing here, Professor?"

"I am not a professor anymore, yours nor anyone's." He took the photo of her almost blindly.

"So, what are you doing here, Mr Snape?" she sat across him.

"What's it look like to you, Miss Granger?"

"Photographers prefer other locations; this location is too desolated and far too far away for them," she replied with a smile. He fixed his gaze on her.

"I never said I'm a photographer."

"True." She poured two glasses. "Don't drink water, drink beer."

She looked so different - exquisite, in a white dress with bare shoulders, puffy sleeves and a belt which covered her from beneath her breasts to her hips. Everything else is obscured by the table. Her dress is slightly open, loosely tied with a ribbon, but he can still see her breasts through the white thin material, and the hint of the dark circles of areolae.

"What are you doing here Miss Granger?"

"Hermione."

"What are you doing here Hermione?"

"At the moment, drinking beer with my ex-professor. In general - it is not yours to know, Severus."

"Luna tells me you have a problem with the curse."

"Luna told me that you refuse to use your magic and that you are sort of a womanizer."

"True and true."

"I am disappointed."

"What disappointed you exactly?"

"The former? One of the strongest wizards in England, and you throw that away."

"And the latter?" he grinned at her. Bringing her home might be easier than he'd thought.

"Not my problem."

"What about you, Hermione?"

"I don't chase women."

"What do you chase?"

"Depends…" She stretched one arm to move the strand of hair from his face. Her muscles are strong and elongated; her touch is electric. Magic crackles between them, between their skin. "I was wondering when they were going to draw the big guns. Just never thought it would be you." He raised an eyebrow. "I am close, so close. Tomorrow evening, it won't matter anymore. I will have what I came for. Can you give me that much time?"

"And you will return with me?"

"Yes, although I would return on my own. I finally found it - a hidden temple. Entrance is in the jungle, but its corridors stretch beneath our feet." She leaned back and fixed him with a gaze. "I'm glad they sent you."

"Why?"

"You can destroy it."

"Destroy what?"

"The very thing I came here to find. Ron thinks he's so clever, but he is not smarter than I am. If I bring it home, he will use it - the artefact - and I want to destroy it before he can use it."

"Potter is convinced he sent you on a wild goose chase."

"Harry is sweet and naive, but not Ron. Ron knew exactly what I would find. 'Bring it to me 'Mione, and we will destroy it together'. How naive does he think I am?!"

"What did they send you to find?" Suddenly he is serious. Her eyes have swirls in them, and he knows a curse when he sees one. "You have a serious curse attached to you, Hermione, let me help you."

"Let's make a deal, Professor." There was something in the way she said it that caught his attention "Leave it be until I retrieve the artefact, then I'm - yours. Curses and all."

"That is a dangerous promise, Miss Granger." He leaned towards her. What the hell he was doing? A stray thought caught him by surprise, he was here to force her to get back home, not to…

"Not as dangerous as you might think, unseemly most certainly. However, under no circumstances dangerous. At least, not for me." She smiled, reached over the table and placed her hand on his. Magic crackles again. Something was off, she was dragging her thumb over his palm and…

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Hermione blinked. Was she seeing accurately? A familiar face, the one that she didn't want to avoid, for a change. They sent him here, of course. Ron or Harry, probably Harry, Ron would never talk to Snape. Harry wouldn't think to call him - he respected the man too much. Nevertheless, they played into her hands, perfectly.

Voices in her head scream, but her skin started to tingle, magic crackled and she sighed. He didn't know, they didn't know. Of course, they don't know. Ron wouldn't suggest him if he knew. Harry would be with him if he knew. She laughed - this was perfect, they didn't know! She will destroy the artefact, no one would be able to get her, and she will be free.

Voices cackle.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

Soon, none of it will matter - she would be free. Free to choose and free to die. Free to stop the voices, nightmares and all - just to stop.

First, she must try to make him see things from her perspective. If Harry talked to him, he does not know much. Luna, she'd talked to him too, but Luna didn't know.

She is safe, at least for a little while.

And now, she is across from him. She can feel him relax into her hands. Good, that's it - let the magic work. She must be cautious; he is not weak, not - inexperienced like others that had tracked her. She must tread carefully or all is lost. She should work fast - before the waiter comes and breaks the thrall she's set on him.

'That's it, follow me,' she croons. 'Drain him, his power—'

Shut the fuck up!

They are in his room. That is good - her room is full of documents and maps, it wouldn't be smart to let him see, he of all people. He offered to remove her curse, but which one?

It is not just the one curse at this point. She is not a child anymore, and wonders if she ever was - it won't matter, not after tomorrow. However, for tonight, she can play, as long as she keeps the voices in her head—and the strongest of all curses in her bloodstream—under control.

Freedom was merciful to him. He looks much younger now, with an air of confidence he'd always had, but now that energy is directed to something completely else. And it suits him, in the same way that Muggle clothes suit him. For a moment, she thinks that he belongs to the jungle. His hair is longer now, and she uses it to pull him down for a kiss. Her skin tingled again, magic is flaring all around them as their lips touch.

Would I be doing this under normal circumstances?

'You know you would.'

Shut up!

'I know what you don't want to admit.'

She melted into a kiss, the sharpness of his teeth, the nimble muscle that battles her tongue, the scent of sage and herbs. She must stay in control, she must! It is imperative if she wants - and she does want to. His shirt is off, and - oh, Gods! - how many hands does this man have?

Chair!

"Sit." She growled, expecting him to fight with her but he obeyed her. She hummed in approval, trailing kisses down his jaw, nibbling on a soft spot where ear connected to jaw and he groaned.

Yes. Let me hear you. Her lips continued to search, down the neck, she licked from the dent of his esophagus - above the Adam's apple, to the tip of his chin and he nearly moaned. Her hands joined the lips, while she leaves the wet trail down his torso. His breath is faster now, low growl hitched in his throat. Growl turned into a hiss when her lips reached a thick bush of black curls. Locking her gaze with his, she took him in her hand.

She is surprised, he is - a discovery. She licked the swollen head of his member, and he hissed again, burying his hands in her hair. Without taking her eyes off of him, she took him in her mouth, and his eyelids fluttered. Bobbing her head and swirling her tongue, applying pressure around his glans, she watches him while he is getting lost in her attempt. It is, in a way, empowering. Intoxicating even, and now she's the one with the power, power to force a man like him to melt under her touch.

Her core is throbbing, heat is pooling in her stomach, aching. 'Take him.' nudges the voice, but she ignores it and focuses on his groans and breathing.

A loud noise rasped through the room.

"Let it ring," he growls through clenched teeth.

Fumbling through the pockets of his pants, crumpled around his ankles, she picked up the cell phone and placed it into his hand. Her lips deserted his member, but her hand is still on it.

"Answer it." She is still in an eye-lock with him. Reluctantly he answered, her hand never standing still.

"Potter." His voice is gravelly, and he fights to control his breathing. "Yes, I located her." She grinned and lowered down, taking one of his balls in her mouth; he bit his lower lip. "You might say, Potter, she - got me by my balls. Something similar to running, yes." Her lips switch to the other ball, cuddling his perineum lightly. "Fuck! No, not you Potter - Oh! - I - can't talk now, sorry - I'll call you tomorrow." He switched off the phone and threw him behind his back.

She applied some more pressure, her mouth returned to his member. She is determined now, determined to see him falling apart under her caresses. Fighting the urge to impale herself on him, she sped up. From his mouth string of curses. His hips buckle. His loud groans are music to her ears.

He unloaded his seed into her mouth; she drank it greedily - the essence of him.

~ S ~ S ~ S ~

Soft rays of rising sun woke him up. He's naked, on the bed and - alone. Was it all a dream? More importantly, what the fuck was he doing? Last night he was powerless, reduced to the puddle of goo, by Granger, no less.

He got up from the bed, just in time to glance through the window and see her disappear into the jungle.

"Shit!" He dressed quickly, taking the nearest garments - khaki shorts and T-shirt. Using his wand to tie up his hiking boots, he ran outside, but she was already gone. Muttered "Shitt—" Followed her trail.

She was careful, but years of experience are on his side. Her footprints leave a trail of magic which is easy to track. Too late he realized that he didn't bring anything with him but a wand.

Not far from the village, her trail leads him below the ground through the hidden entrance.

"What did she tell me yesterday? Hallways are under the village." Bending down at the entrance to an underground passage, he continued to follow her. "Lumos," mumbled when darkness engulfed him. Her tracks are still easy to follow. The maze of corridors meanders, but he followed her trail. Rooms through which he passed were ravaged long ago; grave robbers and gold diggers desolated this place. Only the fine dust—centuries old—rests on every surface, dispersing in small clouds beneath his boots as he walks.

Regardless of what she's looking for, it is not here anymore. The almost desperate thought floated through his mind. He suddenly realized: returning her home would be much more complicated than he'd thought. He had another problem; he could hardly think straight in her presence. He could keep her in a magical sleep, but then he would be in trouble neck-deep with muggles.

Severus assumed that she had all necessary official papers and permits - that was Granger after all -she never left such things to chance. On the other hand, he had only his tourist visa and permits.

An abrupt vibration of magic stopped him in his tracks.

In front of him was a chamber. At its door, ripped wards still quivered. The wards were not stripped with finesse or meticulous work, but rather crudely torn apart. Through the shimmer of ripped protections, he could see her, in a small square chamber with barren walls. She was sitting on the dusty ground, and by movements of her wand he could conclude that she was removing protections from a small wooden box. His insides tightened. Picking up the tendrils of two different wards with his wand, he stepped into the room, fixing them. Whatever she was planning to do, the curse would stay locked up with them if he failed to stop her on time.

"That is not smart, Miss Granger."

"Will you?"

"What?"

"Destroy it. I removed the protection; just help me destroy the box."

He blinked, she didn't look at him but studied the box, as if she was searching for the weak spot.

"I do not have authorization and I don't know what's inside. We may very well let something loose by destroying the box." He replied softly, wondering why he tried to reason with her.

"I know what's inside. It can't hurt many people…"

"It is just as bad, even if it can hurt only one person. Do not start acting stupid now girl - pick up the box, take it to Potter and let your department deal with the matter." He used the tone of voice which he kept reserved for the classroom. She raised her head and he realized his mistake. Her face had an almost feral look, with eyes full of despair. The kind of despair he knew only too well, the despair of a person is facing their own death, but still steadily pacing towards it. "What is in the box?"

"So, you won't help me?"

"Miss Granger…"

"Then so be it, Professor. If I have to suffer, I won't suffer alone." She hissed and opened the box.

He tried to cast a spell, to stop her, but she was faster.

The lid of the box cracked slightly when two silver sparks flew free, then a surge of golden light violently escaped. Cursing Potter and his proclivity to share less than nothing of information, he tried to reach the girl who was sitting with the box in her hands. Light twirled around them, creating a distinctive closed curve pattern, tendrils of light curled around their wands.

Her eyes were the scariest thing he ever saw in his life - live and gleaming, but at the same time dead and hopeless. All his years of training, all that he knew, all his instincts - he was frozen now, almost petrified. Suddenly, loops of the infinity symbol separated in the middle, encircling them, and he could feel their magical imprint on his skin—on his soul—as they twisted around his magical core. As abruptly as it started, everything stopped.

The chamber was peaceful once more.

"You idiot, you—you - stupid, insolent brat—" He growled, stopped in the midst of his rant when her eyes meet his again.

She was faster than was humanly possible, tackling him on the ground. Against all odds his wand clanged, rolling away from him. He was pinned to the floor, by magic.

For the first time in the past three years, he was scared - truly and honestly scared. There were no traces of sanity in Granger's eyes, only curses, swirling wildly. More than one curse, mixed with a touch of desperate insanity.

She touched his face and magic began to crackle again, his brain was muddled again, rendering him speechless, complacent for anything that she had in mind.

If there is a mind left in her.

She tore off his clothes.

He attempted to struggle against the bonds, with the portion of clarity he somehow managed to retain. Or was that instinct? He knew he had to fight. Nevertheless, there was little hope; he could feel the magic building, but he could not use his magic. He resisted in the only way he could: refusing to participate willingly.

But his mind and his body were separated in their reactions.

He was inside her head. No, not by the means of Legilimency - the images had the sharpness and clear texture; he could smell and taste and - feel.

She stripped him naked, as much as it was possible without breaking the bonds, and now she was removing her own clothes. He could - see - her intent and he didn't have much strength to fight it.

Her emotions were overwhelming. Desperation. Desperate need, pressure nested in the pit of the stomach, almost painful, begging for release. She was on top of him. He could feel her slick entrance, already well coated, on the tip of his member.

This is wrong - so wrong. Were those his thoughts or hers? Heat spilt around his brain like the warm rays of the sun. Breath hitched in his lungs. She's so bloody tight and warm. He could feel the squeeze of her channel, and at the same time, a stretch and a sense of almost unpleasant fullness.

Her hips danced, and then she used the force of her own weight to sit on him, to take him completely, releasing a small cry.

Pain! White flashes in front of his eyes, and he could feel her body tensing. Bloody hell! No! Pain ebbed away slowly, and the pressure became an issue. She began to move and he could feel the slick, tight channel around him, the sensation was - mind-numbing. He also could feel the silky caress on overly stretched walls.

He suddenly realized the dual sensation: his and hers.

She was moving fast now, trying to relieve the feeling not so different from apparating, the pressure, almost unpleasant and so demanding. The faster her hips danced, the sharper they moved, pressure increased. Underlying that sensation was his own reaction - the heat of friction and tidal waves of pleasure beating at the thin walls of a dam. He could feel her walls, his rod hitting a spot inside her, and the pleasure erupted, spilling inside her, flooding her nerves, his nerves, spilling - him.

Nerve endings flared up, arching his back - her back.

A double scream echoed through the chamber, and then the silence and emptiness, blissful floating in the absolute stillness. He could still feel her muscles, rippling around him, squeezing him, and he could feel the release - the pleasure of fullness and comfort in the sensation of his shaft embedded deep inside her.

His mind started to clear aside whatever spell held him - he was free of it now. The tingling sensation of contraception spell - then he was alone again.

Alone in his head.

She broke the eye contact and stood up. His body recoiled, howling at the loss. Panting, he stayed sprawled on the ground, debating whether he was raped or not.

She quickly dressed. Slowly, while his mind was still reeling from the experience, he dressed too, picking up the wand. When he reached for the box, she grabbed it, clutching it tightly to her chest and growled at him.

"Mine."

Fucking bloody hell! I was… Almost. Raped. Now I'm trapped with a crazy, wild witch in a cave. What else? At least his magic had returned to him. He could use it again. She was still fixed on him with her gaze; traces of the girl he once knew appeared. A vile grin danced on her lips as she passed by him.

"Now you have no choice. Now you have to help me." He has frozen once again. What the hell just happened?

She was nearly at the exit. He still stared at the same spot on the floor, trying to sort out through the events that took place moments ago. His hand jerked back, sending sparks of pain from his shoulder to his brain. A soft thud and groan from behind told him what had happened. Suddenly, everything was clear.

He finally understood.