It was as if she had acquired a vast amount of wealth and they all wanted in on it. The only way to get any of it was to be overly nice and treat her as if she no longer possessed the ability to be independent. They were quite successful at it too. Ron was practically attached to her hip and Ginny would not stop asking if she needed anything. Even her teachers were coddling her - well more than usual. She found it exhausting and extremely annoying. She just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. Or for everyone to at least pretend so but the constant ache in her leg made that impossible. Professor Snape was her only hope and she did not feel too confident about that.
She made her way to the dungeons after classes. If she was prompt enough he would still be around. The walk was more demanding than she remembered, when the pain didn't stop her, the fatigue did. By the time she reached his classroom she had plenty of time to work up some anxiety. She feared what would happen and wasn't sure she could handle being turned away.
Summoning her Gryffindor, courage she knocked. He didn't reply right away and her racing heart fell at the notion of having to walk back so soon. She had never been so happy to hear Professor Snape's demeaning tone.
"Enter." he drawled, expecting to see Dumbledore. It wasn't him though. Hermione Granger, Minerva's pet, was now entering the snake's lair. She looked worse than before and he felt bad upon seeing her struggle just to walk. He didn't know when he started to care but it was concerning him at how soft he was getting.
"Professor Snape. Might I borrow some of your time?" He nodded and motioned for her to talk a seat. He watched her with curiosity as she moved, as if she was some foreign creature. It certainly felt that way to him there were so many things he realized he did not know and this intrigued him.
"I am sure you have noticed my...handicapped." she said nervously. She avoided his eyes as she spoke. "I realize you are probably busy with the new school year but I am in need of your help." He knitted his brow as she said this. What was she getting at? " Saint Mungo's does not wish to help me and with your knowledge of the dark arts I believe you could offer me more insight than they ever could." Her confidence built the more she spoke but he soon crushed it.
"Certainly you realize I am no healer, Miss Granger."
"Yes but Saint Mungo's did a horrible job." she sputtered
"So you come to me in hopes of cleaning up their mess?" He looked affronted. There was no point in answering his question she knew no matter what answer she gave he was going to turn her away. A tightening in her chest surfaced and she knew It was her heart breaking.
"I understand. Thank you for your time." Her voice trembled and she abruptly stood. Taking what little pride she had left she made her exit but was stopped halfway.
"Miss Granger." he called. She froze and refused to turn around, afraid he would see the tears in her eyes. "I never said I wouldn't help."
All of he pain and sadness vanished at the sound of those words. For the first time in weeks she felt hopeful.
"Thank you Professor." She beamed turning back around with a smile on her face. It was still clear to him though that she had been about to cry. He cleared his throat as his own way of easing the awkward situation. Him and tears did not mix well.
"Let me take a look at it." He said gesturing for her to take a seat. She hesitated and he had little patience for her insecurities. "Miss Granger if you want me to help you I need to see what it is I am exactly dealing with."
"Of course." she replied moving to where he stood. She never actually thought the she would have made it this far or that he would already be looking at her leg.
She timidly rolled away her sock and braced herself for a reaction but there wasn't one. His face was completely blank, and a part of her was afraid of what he was thinking. She looked away as he moved closer.
"I am not one for kneeling." He stated hinting for her to raise her leg onto the desk. It was neither a request or command but a necessity. Wordlessly she did so and they both were thankful that she wore jeans under her robes today. She had underestimated how awkward this was going to be but Professor Snape didn't seem to be affected by it. He was too busy taking in the sight of her leg. It was a wonder she was able to walk on it. A portion of her calf muscle was missing, and ugly jagged lines ran up the back of her leg, marking where the healers had cut. The flesh around the cut was pink, and wrinkled, newly healed. He feared by the time he was finished it would not look so healthy. A part of him was angry at the healers lack of competence simply removing the muscle where the curse hit was the worst thing they could have possibly done. Now she would be forced to live with this injury the rest of her life.
"What color light did the spell have?"
"It was red."
This was one of the few moment she could actually see who this man was. Despite knowing him for years she was just seeing him now. He wasn't handsome, not in the traditional sense but something about him struck her. It had to be his eyes, they were dark but enchanting. His nose too, it made him unique, and more attractive. His hair didn't actually look so greasy in this light... Unexpectedly he ran a finger across one of her scars. The touch was soft, pleasant even. Uncharacteristic of his usually hard and sharp demeanor. The act felt extremely intimate but he seemed unaware of the reaction it was drawing out of her. He dragged his hand across her skin, leaving behind a trail of warmth and further heightening the strange sensation she was feeling. He drew out his wand and started to mumble a series of inaudible words. Fascinated she watched his face mold with concentration and focus. His determination touched her and this only added to the growing haze in her mind. The growing fog cleared when a sharp pain caused her to jerk her leg away.
"I am sorry." she mumbled feeling ashamed.
"That's definitely not a normal reaction" he said more to himself than her. "It would appear the healers at Saint Mungo's aren't as competent as they think they are."
"Do you know what curse this was?" She was getting ahead of herself but she couldn't help it.
"Yes and I am afraid it does not look to good for you." Her stomach sank at his proclamation. "This spell was meant to cause the victim a great deal or torment and by the looks of it I would say it has been very successful." She blushed as he said this aware of her worn appearance, she just couldn't find the will to care. "Who ever cast this did not intend to kill you, a powerful wizard cast this and if they had wanted you dead you would not be here." He pocketed his wand but continued to talk. "The curse was designed to imbed itself into your tissue burrowing further and further the longer you wait. It's difficult to remove because of that. It breaks too, easily which means the healer's likely caused it to shatter indifferent directions. Like glass breaking into tinier pieces. It is strange that the caster chose this spell though." He furrowed his brow. "It requires them to sacrifice a part of their magic. Its risky but apparently the caster wanted you to suffer." An eerie silence fell across the room as Hermione processed what he had just told her.
"Can you trace it back to the caster then?"
"Yes." It wasn't exactly a smile but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he said this. She would at least be able to find her attacker.
