Have A Chat
Chapter 1
"Ron, I'm home," Hermione called out as she opened the front door.
"Where have you been, Hermione? Checking out the deadbeats again?" Ron asked, not lifting his head from the evening edition of The Daily Prophet.
"They're not necessarily, 'deadbeats', Ron. Some of them have sad stories and it is actually part of my job to help them, after all."
"I know, 'Mione, but I missed you. I'm heading off for another training camp with the Cannons tomorrow, and well, I thought we could have a quiet night at home for a change," Ron said as he folded the paper and patted the empty spot next to him on the lounge.
"I'm always here at night, Ron. Just because you feel the need to go to the pub after work…I'm tired, I'm not having this argument with you again," Hermione said wearily, stowing her satchel, coat and scarf on the hook near the door.
"We never used to argue, but all this work for the Ministry is making you grumpy, and I don't like it, Hermione. I want my wife back."
"Ron, take off the blinkers. We fought at school, and we've had arguments since we've been married. You just storm out before we get a chance to sort things out properly. So, stop trying to make me guilty. It takes two to make a marriage, and I seem to be the only one giving much at all."
"Well, once you start having kids, it'll be different. For one thing, you'll have to stop working on the streets," Ron pressed on, even though Hermione was shooting him a hard look. "I know, you enjoy it, you keep telling me that, but you always come home smelling of…well, lots of things actually." Ron wrinkled his nose to emphasise his point.
"Thank you for reminding me. I need to go and have a shower, and then I need to Floo Harry," Hermione said absently. "I've got another new client, but I have a feeling this one has a few more secrets than most. I'm sure he's a wizard, but…well, never mind. You're right, I do need a shower," Hermione started to say as she caught a whiff of what was obviously curling Ron's nose.
"Are you going to cook tea then, Hermione?"
"You mean you haven't started it, Ron? I left you a note this morning asking you to get the vegetables ready, because I didn't know what time I'd be in."
"Well, I stopped off for a couple of rounds with the boys, but I didn't see a note. Where did you leave it, 'Mione?"
"Floating in front of you this morning, actually. It's probably still there, if you looked closely enough," Hermione said shortly.
"I haven't been upstairs yet," Ron said indignantly, with an edge to his voice. "Unlike you, I don't need to wash off the stench of the losers you look after."
Glaring at him for the longest time, Hermione turned on her heel without another word and went upstairs quickly. Deciding to Floo Harry now, rather than disturb his time with Ginny and the children later, Hermione used the small grate in the bedroom and made her call. Harry, like Ron, couldn't understand her need to look after the rejects of society, but unlike Ron, Harry also realised the need to identify any potential wizards and witches who'd left the magical world, either through force, illness or those looking for a bolt hole out of Ministry range. Harry promised Hermione he'd smooth things over with Ron when he saw him the following day, and then offered to call into her Muggle office to pose as a client for a few hours. Hermione laughed then, some of the tension leaving her for the first time that day. Harry and she had often joked that he'd end up with a real problem if he kept turning up to her Muggle office under the influence of Polyjuice Potion. Hermione had, on occasion, teased him to let go of some of his past, and though both of them knew that the offer was actually genuine, Harry usually just shrugged and said she'd best hop to it if she wanted to do some investigating. Hermione always used the time wisely, but if there was a chance of a wizard hiding unknown in the Muggle world, then it was important for Hermione to find out if there was indeed any threat.
Having finished her call, with a few quick words with Ginny and young Albus, Hermione peeled off her clothes as she headed towards the shower to wash off the detritus of the day. Washing her hair thoroughly, Hermione thought back to how she'd started. Having just begun her final year in her Muggle degree in Applied Sociology, Hermione used to always see an old woman – a 'bag lady' – rifling through the skips on her way home. She couldn't understand how anyone ended up living hand to mouth on the streets, nor why their families, if they had families, weren't out looking for them. So, Hermione approached her one day, and Lou became her first client. She was a Muggle who'd walked out of home one day following the death of her youngest child, taken to the bottle and been too ashamed to return home. As far as Hermione could tell, there was far more to Lou's story, but she never asked, preferring Lou to trust her with whatever other secrets she was holding onto – when she was ready. Lou had been on the streets for over twenty years, though the old woman was cagey about how long she'd been living rough. Lou showed Hermione where all the shelters were on her patch in London, which mission vans had 'real' soup, rather than the reconstituted powder that some do-gooders tried to hand out, and where she went if she needed a warm spot at night. After her 'tour' with Lou, Hermione resolved to do her final year project on the homeless, with the view to trying to get most of them off the streets and into recognised shelters.
Four years later, her naivety had vanished, and Hermione realised there would never be enough shelters to safely house all those known and unknown to both the welfare agencies and herself. The best she could hope for was to target the most vulnerable individuals and ensure that they stayed safe.
It was the Ministry of Magic who turned her final year Sociology project into a full time job.
They'd approached her near the end of her project and asked Hermione to watch for rogue magical activity that had been detected near Diagon Alley. They'd even set her up in an office, with a wholly Muggle appearance, though it was strongly warded, and Hermione was the only person who could Apparate either in or out of the building. Her only concession to the magical world was a fireplace connected directly to the Ministry and Kingsley Shacklebolt's office. It was here that Harry came for his 'consultations', so that she could go out and observe, and it had been Harry who'd helped her find the 'rogue activity' that the Ministry had been talking about. Two minor Death Eaters, who had thought the Muggle streets might hide them from the wrath of the Aurory following Voldemort's death, had been arrested and handed over to the Ministry just over three years ago. Harry was now permanently assigned as Hermione's go-between with Kingsley Shacklebolt and it suited all three of them to work as a team. Hermione had thought the Ministry would abandon her once she'd solved the original mystery, but the Ministry, in a rare moment of common sense, wanted the office to stay in case any more magical folk turned up in the Muggle world.
Turning off the taps, Hermione ran her hands over her wet hair to try and get some of the water out, before she wrapped a towel around her head. Stepping out of the shower proper, Hermione jumped to see Ron sitting on the lav naked with a towel draped carelessly over his lap, just watching her. Reaching over to the rail for a towel, Hermione paid no notice to him and started to dry herself, though she did take her time drying her breasts, belly and arse, before she turned away as she bent over to dry her legs and feet. Hermione didn't need to look to realise that Ron had moved, the feel of his cock nudging her arse was enough of a hint. Hermione stood then, turned and kissed him, but pulled away quickly once she realised that she could taste stale beer on his tongue. Actually, now that she was clean, Hermione could smell the dried sweat that Ron kept saying was normal.
Wrinkling her nose, Hermione pulled back and said, "Ron, you need to have a shower."
"No, I don't, 'Mione. What I need is you and me in bed," he said as he pulled one of Hermione's hands to his erection.
"Not until you wash off the smell of stale sweat and beer, Ron," Hermione said as she pulled her hand away from his grasp.
"What is it with you? None of the others have these problems with their wives and girlfriends. Is this because I made you have a shower?"
"You talk about us with your mates?" Hermione asked indignantly.
"I didn't mean it like that, 'Mione. What I mean is, well, it's normal for a bloke to smell like a bloke, so I can't see why I have to have a shower if I'm…well…just being me," Ron said with a shrug.
"You're right, Ron, there is nothing nicer than the smell of a clean man, but you smell of sweat and beer," Hermione emphasised, poking Ron in the chest. "I want nothing more than to climb into bed with you, but not before you have a shower and clean your teeth."
"You're not my mother, Hermione, you're my wife, and I don't have to automatically do anything you tell me to do. I'm not twelve!" Ron snapped as he waved his wand and dressed again in his sweaty clothes. "I'm going to the pub, unless you've got that a problem with that – Mum?"
Hermione shook her head wearily, as Ron slammed the bathroom door shut on his way out. Hermione then wrapped herself in her bathrobe, before heading back downstairs to get herself some tea. Settling for a cheese toasty, Hermione sat in front of the telly for a while. She liked having a few Muggle things around her, and sometimes Ron actually sat there and watched the telly with her, though he more often than not gave a running commentary of how Muggles thought they had the best of everything…when they didn't. Hermione usually said nothing. It had only been in the last year of so that they'd started arguing, well, arguing more than they used to. Ron was adamant that if Ginny was all right having kids, then why wasn't she also happy with the idea of having children. Hermione could never get Ron to understand that they had plenty of time for children, after she'd worked for a while. On more than one occasion, she'd stung Ron by suggesting that it wasn't a race and that pushing her would lead to her putting it off for even longer. He always sulked for days afterwards when she used that particular argument. The only time they ever really talked these days, really talked was in a drowsy post-coital haze, and even then, Ron would sometimes have some barbed comment for her, most often about her job. If Hermione was honest, she usually gave back as good as she got, which would start another argument very shortly afterwards.
Spying the mantle clock, Hermione decided that reading in bed might just be the better option. She was tired. It was always more tiring observing someone new, mainly because her 'regulars' once they recognised her, would stop for a chat, or offer some snippet of information, particularly if Hermione didn't ask. They were her eyes and ears about the latest gossip on the streets. They'd also tell her if there was someone new she might need to add to her list. She'd started keeping an eye on 'Have a Chat' because of something that had been said to her 'off-the-cuff' one day.
Hermione was startled out of her thoughts when she heard the 'pop' of Apparition, and then the inevitable stumble as Ron fell over the coffee table yet again. She didn't dare get up and make sure he was all right, but she soon heard the lav flushed and the shower turned on. Rolling over, Hermione felt she must have dozed off, because the next thing she was aware of, was Ron, spooning himself against her back. Turning slightly, Hermione was about to say something when Ron cut her off.
"I'm sorry, 'Mione – about earlier, I mean. I just worry about you when you spend all day keeping an eye out for those los…" Ron stopped suddenly, all too aware that even though the lights were out, Hermione was glaring at him, and she'd stiffened under his hands. "…keep an eye out for your clients."
"I like my job, Ron, and I was doing this job when you married me. It didn't worry you in the beginning, so why now?"
"Well, I want to be a dad, not just an uncle, and I want to be a dad with our kids."
"We've had this talk before, Ron. I'm only twenty-four, and there is tons of time for us to be parents. I want kids too, but I don't want to be pressured into doing it before I'm ready…and before you ask, I don't have a schedule nutted out so I can definitely tell you when I'll be ready."
Ron grunted, and Hermione knew that he'd simply just waved away another argument for another pressing issue. Rolling her back towards him, to rest on his left arm, Ron set about running his right hand in circles over her belly, dipping between her legs every so often to catch his index finger on her clit, before he finally moved up towards her breasts. Stopping to undo the buttons on the front of her nightie, Ron barely stopped before his hand closed around her left breast, and he leant forward and kissed her. Turning more fully, Hermione took the opportunity to also run her left hand down Ron's naked torso slowly until she reached his cock, squeezing it in time with Ron's attentions on her breast. Moving away suddenly, Ron pushed her nightie up and then rolled over to rest in the cradle of her thighs. Hermione leant up then and kissed him again before guiding him into her. Neither said anything, just savoured the pleasure as they each offered staccato moans, sighs and breathless words to each other. Looking at each other intensely, Hermione was struck by the sudden inappropriate thought that they only seemed to agree with each other when they were locked together, and though that part of her marriage was more than all right, it suddenly wasn't enough. Shelving that thought as she watched Ron's face contort at his approaching orgasm, Hermione reached forward to pull him down for another kiss, if only to stifle her own uncertainty at this new revelation.
Dropping heavily next to her, Ron pulled Hermione to him, kissed her sleepily and said, "I'm going to miss you while I'm on this training camp, 'Mione. Are you sure you can't come with me?"
"Please, Ron, don't fight with me now. You know I can't come with you. Aside from the fact that I'd be bored stiff while you're off playing Quidditch all day, I have work here that I need to do."
Ron sighed and then said, "I know, 'Mione, but it doesn't hurt to ask." Dropping a kiss on Hermione's shoulder, Ron pulled her back towards him more tightly as he drifted off to sleep.
Hermione was awake for longer, and as she listened to Ron's odd blend of snoring and snuffling she couldn't help but think that their marriage had changed yet again with her thoughts. Moving as closely to Ron as she could, for reassurance, Hermione yawned and then dropped off to sleep wondering just what she could do to make sure the parts of her marriage not conducted in bed could be improved.
**~**
Clinical Notes:
Client: Have a Chat
Observations: Has not moved today as far as I can tell. Seems at times both more alert, and less so. Unsure how to describe, but he looks sick. Certainly looks thinner, if that's possible. Have been unable to approach and though he knows he's being watched, has not shifted position or eaten from mission van. Saw several clients today, all with blankets, though 'Have a Chat' never seems to have anything other than the clothes on his back.
Conclusion: Need to contact Kingsley re stealth monitoring to ascertain if he is Muggle or wizard, plus level of threat if magical status is confirmed.
Outcome: Contact with MOM now means 'Have a Chat' under stealth
monitoring. Will not know outcome until report available tomorrow. Have come back this afternoon as worried about him. Day cold, windy, with drizzle falling intermittently. He has not sought shelter. Able to stay and follow when necessary. Need supplies if staying out.
**~**
Hermione was busy stuffing her rucksack with shrunken tins of food, medicines, bandages, blankets and her own personal potions kit, when the sound of Harry literally popping in startled her enough that she banged her head on the top of the cupboard.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry, Hermione, but I had to come over as soon as I could. The results of the stealth monitoring are in…and well, you're not going to believe the…" Harry stopped mid sentence, running his right hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in front of Hermione, who was still rubbing the crown of her head.
"What, Harry?"
"I still don't believe it," Harry muttered to himself, completely ignoring Hermione as she graced him with an annoyed look.
"Harry? HARRY!"
"What? Oh, sorry, Hermione. Have you got anything to drink…other than tea or coffee, that is?" Harry added absently.
"I think you might find a beer or two in the fridge. Are the results that bad?"
"No…I mean, yes. I mean, well, I don't know what I mean actually. I just never thought…I mean, I thought he was dead, but he's not…and…"
"Harry, calm down and get a beer. Actually, you may as well get two of them and come and sit on the lounge."
Hermione watched Harry as he ran his hand through his hair again, then turned abruptly, opened the fridge and retrieved the two beers sitting on the shelf in front of him. Opening them both, Harry fished around for a couple of glasses and then walked over to the lounge where Hermione was already sitting.
"I thought the results of the monitoring wouldn't be available until the morning," Hermione started to say, but changed tack when Harry took a large gulp of beer and then rested his head against the back of the lounge. "Should I be worried about the results?"
"Not exactly worried, but Kingsley and I ran the scans twice to make absolutely sure the results hadn't been tainted." Harry looked carefully at Hermione then, her brow furrowed as she tried to understand why he was so jumpy about the results of the stealth monitoring.
"Hermione, do you remember me telling you about Snape giving me his memories?"
"Of course I do, Harry. It's not something you forget in a hurry. I take it the monitoring showed that 'Have a Chat' is a wizard?"
"Yes," Harry said, exhaling a breath at the same time, "but it isn't just any wizard, Hermione. It's Snape. 'Have a Chat' is Snape."
"But that's impossible. He was near death when you retrieved his memories. I handed you the vial to collect his memories myself."
"I know, Hermione, and I thought he had died, but the stealth monitoring has positively identified him off his magical signature. Kingsley is keeping mum about it for the moment, but as Snape is still wanted for murder, well, we can't keep it quiet forever."
"I thought he was cleared posthumously, and surely there was a body count after it was all over? Surely someone would have noticed if Snape wasn't amongst the dead?"
"Well, yes, they might have noticed if I hadn't sort of told the wizards cataloguing the mortuary that I knew Snape was definitely dead. They might not have looked so hard for a body with me vouching for him being dead and all. As for the charges, the Wizengamot never cleared Snape. He was dead, so what was the point?"
"Harry, what exactly are you not telling me?"
Harry shrugged, took another big gulp of beer, and then turned to face Hermione sitting next to him on the lounge.
"When I went back to the Shrieking Shack, after it was all over, I couldn't find his body. I looked in every room of that place, but I couldn't see him. There weren't even any marks in the dust to show me where he might have dragged himself. I couldn't even see any blood or other stuff on the floor. The only thing I found was," Harry paused as he pulled a single iridescent blue and flame red feather from his pocket, "…this. It was where Snape had been lying, but I haven't seen Fawkes since that day either."
"Why didn't you say anything at the time, Harry?"
"I don't…actually, I do know why I didn't say anything. I was hoping that if he had managed to escape, I could keep it quiet so he could start again somewhere else. This isn't making sense, Hermione, but there are some things from those memories I will never ever tell another living soul. I don't know that I like him, but he was a much better person than I ever gave him credit for. I suppose you could say I chose how to repay my debt to him in my own way."
"Oh, Harry, you don't have to explain it to me. I'm just wondering why he's living on the streets."
"Spell damage," they both said together, though Hermione continued. "Yes, spell damage could account for his behaviour. Maybe he's got amnesia, and he has no idea of who he is? I don't know, but I do know that he didn't look well this morning. I was actually on my way out when you arrived. Seeing as Ron is away, I might be able to find out where he is spending his nights."
Spying the time on the mantle clock, Hermione jumped up and hurried over to her rucksack, checking off her mental list once more, before she closed and secured the flap. Lifting it, Hermione slung it off one shoulder as she looked at Harry.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go, Harry. Now that I know who he is, I really need to find out where he goes when he isn't sitting a scant two blocks from the Leaky Cauldron."
"Shouldn't you tell someone where you're going?"
"No, you've kept his apparent survival quiet for the last five years, and Kingsley is stalling for us tonight. Now, stop sitting there like a stuffed elf and come and help me. I've never approached him, so I don't know if he even has a wand. I need you as backup, Harry, unless you don't want to come?"
"Yes, no, oh, what the hell. Of course I'll come with you. Ron would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you. I wouldn't forgive myself either, come to think of it."
"That's the spirit, Harry."
**~**
Harry and Hermione Apparated near the Leaky Cauldron and then walked quickly to the alleyway where Hermione had been observing 'Have a Chat' for the last few weeks. Harry looked around once they reached their destination, and seeing no one, cast a discreet Lumos so that they could see better. He hadn't moved. In fact, he looked as though he was either asleep or unconscious. Rushing over to him, Hermione dropped her rucksack and then bent down to have a closer look. Harry huffed in an annoyed way and stood a small distance away just in case Hermione's rash actions endangered her. Standing quickly, Hermione retrieved her rucksack, opened it hastily and then threw a blanket quickly over the prone wizard. Casting some rudimentary diagnostic spells, Hermione crinkled her nose at the smell, and then thought to add a charm to neutralise the odour emanating from Snape.
Waving Harry over, Hermione said in a harsher tone than she meant to use, "Harry, get over here, I need your help. He's unconscious and I haven't got the strength to turn him over."
Harry looked around carefully and then moved over to Hermione's side.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He's been beaten up, but I don't think that's the only problem. He can't stay here, Harry – I need to take him home and have a good look at him."
"You can't do that! Ron will kill you if he thinks you've got a strange bloke in your house. Actually, he'll be bloody pissed off if he finds out it's Snape!"
"Ron will never know, will he, Harry?" Hermione queried with a hard edge to her voice.
"How? Oh, never mind. I won't tell him, but I won't lie to him if asks me outright, Hermione."
"Ron won't ask, Harry, he never does."
"Hmmm…" Harry started to say something, but Hermione cut him off.
"Never mind about Ron, but I do need to get him somewhere warm so that I can use my potions kit on him without rousing too much suspicion. Have you got your Invisibility Cloak on you?"
"You know I never go anywhere without it."
"What? Yes, of course. Sorry, but he's got very shallow breathing, and I can't tell where all the blood is coming from."
"Calm down, Hermione. I said I'd help you, so stop panicking. Here put this over the two of you," Harry said as he pulled out his cloak and draped it over Hermione's left arm. "Don't worry; I'll be right behind you."
Hermione looked at Harry, nodded once and then settled the cloak over the immobile form of Severus Snape, before she held his hand and Disapparated home with him. True to his word, Harry was right behind them, casting Lumos again even as he made his way over to the fireplace in the living room.
"Don't worry about Kingsley now, Harry. I need to get him upstairs and washed – sooner rather than later," Hermione stifled another gag as she reinforced the odour neutralising charm.
"I wasn't going to do that. All I was going to do was light the fire and warm this place up a bit."
"Oh, right, sorry. Thank you, Harry, I didn't think of it."
"Hang on! You're not going to wash him, Hermione. I mean, it's Snape after all."
"Well, you could help me, Harry. It's not like I'm going to check him out while I'm at it," Hermione said in an annoyed tone. "I need to get him out of these clothes and clean…er than he is at the moment. You could help me by going up and making the bath bigger, so that I can lie him in it safely and get rid of these rags."
'You are joking about checking him out, aren't you Hermione?"
Harry didn't wait for a reply from Hermione. The filthy look she was shooting his way said far more than words ever could.
"Settle down, I was only teasing," Harry said placatingly, with his hands out in front of him. "I'll head upstairs now and get things ready. Bring him up when you're ready."
Hermione had already turned away from Harry by the time he'd finished talking. Harry watched her closely for a minute, eyes narrowed in concern, before he raced upstairs to do as she'd asked. Several long minutes later, Hermione entered the bathroom with a Mobilicorpus'd Snape floating behind her unsteadily.
"Here, let me help you," Harry said as he saw Snape's form swaying from side to side."
"He's actually heavier than he looks, Harry. He hasn't woken up either, and I really don't want to have to try and find a doctor at this time of night."
"Why would you need a doctor? Why not just call St Mung…Oh, okay, point taken," Harry mumbled as he realised what he'd been about to suggest. Anything relating to Snape and his whereabouts needed to be kept quiet until Kingsley could be appraised of the situation and some discreet enquiries could be made about the missing wizard.
Lowering the unconscious wizard into the bath, Hermione 'swished and flicked' her wand quickly to divest Snape of the rags he was wearing. Both Hermione and Harry gasped then, the injuries hidden by his clothes suddenly all too apparent. He had extensive bruising just under his diaphragm, on both upper arms and his cracked and bloodied knees looked infected, as well as a plethora of old scars criss-crossing his entire torso. Watching as the water started to dispel some of the grime, painting it in muddy swirls of colour, Hermione inhaled sharply as she looked at his crushed and bloodied hands. It was obvious that Snape had been beaten to a pulp.
"Why would anyone do that to him?" Hermione asked in an anguished voice as she took a deep breath, pushed up her sleeves and grabbed the shower gel from the shelf behind her. Squirting a generous amount onto a flannel, Hermione knelt down next to the enlarged bath and started to clean the mud and blood from his face.
Harry could do no more than stand next to Hermione shaking his head slowly.
"Maybe someone found him before we did?"
"Maybe," Hermione started to say absently, "but I thought you said that only you and Kingsley knew his true identity."
"No, Hermione, I only told you the results of the stealth monitoring. I…someone could have found out, but that still doesn't explain why they didn't just kill him. No, this looks more like he's been beaten for another reason."
"Why, Harry? Why would someone do this to someone who couldn't fight back?"
"I don't know, but maybe some of your other 'clients' might be able to answer the question better than me. Have you got another flannel, Hermione?" Harry asked suddenly, changing the topic.
"Yes, there's one in the linen cupboard in the hallway" Hermione said absently as she concentrated on cleaning off Snape's face and healing the various cuts and bruises as she went.
When Harry came back into the bathroom, he stopped in the doorway to watch Hermione tending Snape's facial wounds and took a deep breath before he walked back to her side.
"You take the top half, Hermione, and I'll handle everything else."
"Really, Harry, I am not going to check him out. I do, however, need to run some diagnostics over him, and I'll need to make sure I have all the potions and tinctures I need to heal all of these wounds. I just…I mean, it's a shock to see someone in this sort of condition. I keep an eye on people and offer support, but why would someone simply give up being clean?"
"I don't know Hermione, but judging by the dirt ground into the soles of his feet, it's been a while since he last saw water, let alone washed in it."
Hermione couldn't think of why Snape would be wandering around London, living hand to mouth on the streets.
"I wonder how long he's been in London?" Hermione asked absently as she re-broke and then healed an old fracture to his left collarbone. "He doesn't even have a wand to defend himself with."
"I think it might be a while before he can tell us anything, Hermione," Harry replied, not lifting his head from cleaning Snape's feet and calves. "There, I've got his feet and legs clean, but I'll need help to heal those," Harry said, as he pointed at Snape's cracked and bloodied knees.
"Sure, Harry, just give me a minute. I need to look up one of my books to find the right charm to mend the damage." Hermione was already on her feet, and as she tiredly rubbed her hair out of her face with the back of her right hand, she turned and headed downstairs to her overflowing bookcases.
Harry furrowed his brows looking at Hermione's worry over Snape. Sighing to himself, Harry concentrated on cleaning the now cracked and bleeding knuckles, as well as repairing the numerous fractures and dislocated fingers. Looking around the edges of the now enlarged bath, Harry spied a nail brush, grabbed it and casting a numbing charm on the injured hand in front of him, started to clear the caked dirt and dried blood from under Snape's fingernails. Hermione, book in hand, came back into the bathroom mumbling to herself, sat on the edge of the bath and after casting an 'Impervius' on the book itself, placed it next to her, before she swapped places with Harry to heal his knees. Once she'd done as much as she could, Hermione realised that Snape had a huge haematoma on the left side of his abdomen, just below his waist.
Harry looked up to see Hermione running her fingers gently over the purple bruising, looking at Snape's face as he did so, to see him furrow his brow and grimace even though he didn't wake.
"What are you doing, Hermione?"
"I'm wondering how long this has been here. I can heal the fairly minor stuff, but this looks like it's been here for a while. I can't be sure there isn't some internal bleeding, Harry. What if I get it wrong and hurt him even more?"
"You won't, Hermione, and if you don't know something, then I can contact Kingsley and see if he knows a Medi-witch who can be trusted to keep quiet about her unusual patient."
"You've got someone in mind, haven't you?"
"Think about it, Hermione. Who do you know who wouldn't tell anyone, but would have access to Snape's old medical files?"
"You're serious, aren't you? I mean, how exactly would Kingsley explain it to Madam Pomfrey, and what about keeping things quiet?"
"Leave that to me. I'll go and make the call now and see if Kingsley can get her to come tonight. Which fireplace is the easiest to use?"
"The one in the living room is actually the largest," Hermione said wearily, sitting back on her haunches as she dropped the stained flannel in the dirty water. "Can you get me a towel from the cupboard too? I want to cover him up a bit, just in case he wakes up. I'm too tired to summon one, Harry."
Harry looked at Hermione oddly then, but nodded his head anyway. He went and retrieved the towel, before he headed downstairs to make the urgent call to Kingsley.